The Continuity Derivative
by LibraMoon
Summary: Drow do not have such a thing as love. Possession is the same as intimacy. What you cannot have, you crush. What you cannot crush...must be possessed. The only question is, will she survive it? And, why can't he kill her? AU.Fem!HumanxMale!Sadistic!Evil!Drow. There is such a thing as hiding in plain sight.
1. Chapter 1

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas. Or Dungeons and Dragons for which this story is based off of._**

 ** _First foray into this genre, really, so help is appreciated. Thank you for your reviews!  
_**

 ** _Because Hell, I am stuck on my own book and am being slightly pissy while writing. Damn you broken coffee machine._**

 ** _Damn you._**

OoOoOo

The Spider Queen, Lolth, was a being of madness and chaos. Terror and pain descended on everything she touched, or considered favored. In some stretch of insanity, the Drow that worshiped her, had come to see it as a blessing. She was crafty enough to recreate herself, over and over with her own potent energy and the worship of the Underdark elves.

However, she was not the only one, that sought to find resurrection as a means of salvation.

OoOoOo

In the above world, a child is born. With newborn wailing and beseeching cries for warmth and nourishment. A pair of simple farmers, ones who had never made any large impact upon the world and never would, welcomed this first child. The girl was held close, prayers of thanks and gentle but timid asking of blessings were given by the only Cleric around for many miles.

The tired brown eyes of her mother glanced out the opened door, an omen to usher in good tidings with the fresh air. She saw the faint yellow flowers blowing brightly against a dark green shrub. With a slight chuckle, her gaze meets the cleric's and she uses a soft touch to stroke the matted hair away from the crown of the infant's head.

"Trixis," she murmurs, and her husband beams at her proudly. "We will call her Trixis."

It is not a name given to a child whose parents have high expectations for them in life. In truth, her parents had none. They merely wanted her to live. To thrive and grow in amongst the fields they tend. Simple dreams for simple people. Yet, they were happy with only such meager things.

The wizened cleric smiles broadly, having only a few good teeth remaining, the smile is slightly awkward but does not hinder the moment in the slightest.

"A fine name," the holy man agrees as he lays his hand upon the babe. "May the Great God Tyr always protect you."

The Cleric notices, but says nothing, when he feels the slight jolt of divine energy leave him. His gaze moves to the mother, who looks the very image of tired Pride, and to the father that seems overjoyed. The voice in him, far more powerful than any mere mortal, warns him to say nothing.

And, so, he does not.

OoOoOo

Six summers.

For six summers, she is happy, and loved.

For six summers she dances with the wind and plays in the golden fields where her parent's grains grow tall.

Her father tells her that one day she will see above the wheat, and Trixis' eyes grow large and happy. Illuminated by the bright and precocious nature of a child. Her parents have given her two siblings, and Trixis adores them greatly. She leads the second eldest, her little brother, about by his hand. Pointing to things of which her parents have taught her the names.

In her brother's eyes she knows everything.

If her mother wonder's how Trixis come about some of her knowledge, she brushes it off as something her husband must have told their daughter. It never goes beyond that. Not, because her mother does not care, but because six summers comes to a close.

And, then, on the first day of fall, as Trixis watched the night sky twinkle down as her parents finished up a day's hard work, the Drow attacked.

The home she was born in, was burned to the ground. Bodies were strewn upon the fields where she had played earlier that day, as wicked mandibles of spider's devoured the corpses. The still warm blood, filling their bellies as Huntresses and Slavers laughed.

A hand encircles about the back of her neck, as she presses her younger siblings deeper into the best hiding place her young mind had ever discovered. The red eyes, filled to the brim with sadistic satisfaction burn against her gaze. It reminds her too much of the blazes alight in the distance. Something urges her forward, and the young girl bashes her forehead against the Drow's nose.

Wicked feminine laughter fills the air, as the male snarls in fury. The child can see he is at his edge, ready to kill her, when he is stopped.

"That one amuses me," the female with snow-white hair states with ill-disguised pleasure. "Does she not amuse you?"

Young as she is, Trixis does not understand the threat buried within the question. The male Drow, however, knows he is too easily replaced and has no wish to anger the Huntress.

"Indeed, she does," He concedes through grit teeth as he hatefully glares at the ugly human offspring. Filthy creature that it is. Reeking of human sweat and fear. Disgusting!

Every summer thereafter, is spent beneath the earth, under the weight of a slave's mantle. Trixis, at such a tender age, loses the memories of six years, and the people that made those memories a possibility.

However, the process of being sold, she will never forget. Nor the hate-filled red eyes the Drow were capable of.

She does remember the house she is gifted to, and to the new male Drow that renames her 'Ugly Slave'.

OoOoOo

It was common knowledge that everything was beneath a Drow. Even _other_ Drow were _beneath_ a Drow, Trixis had learned from observation, though she finds it all rather exhausting, especially from her 'lofty' position of... oh that was right... _slave_. It hardly matters to her. This place had meaning, and it had purpose for her. Weather or not her Master was aware of it was of little concern to her.

She kept her head down, and did as she was told. It was, considered by some, to be extreme luck that had kept Trixis from the myriad of beatings and torture that the Drow were so very well known for. If she accidentally tripped in front of a Priestess or a noble, it was quickly dismissed with harsh words, and perhaps a fairly light series -by their standards- of slaps about the face. In fact, very little that Trixis ever did, seem to hold the attention of the Drow for long. Every one of the conniving and power-scheming creatures refused to even spare the effort to maim her.

Her fellow slaves, when one or two of the more observant ones had taken notice, took to hiding behind her proverbial shadow. One was a rather large Darfellan that towered above Trixis, but was often seen smartly trailing in her wake. The benign and gentle oceanic humanoid was often used to dredge the underwater rivers or streams. He certainly was lonely, and a touch broody.

He once made a comment that it was a characteristic of his people. Trixis knew no better, and so believed him. She also listened to his hushed explanation of his patches of white against his otherwise glossy black skin. She had taken to him instantly, when she met him almost two years ago, because he was _clumsy._

There truly was no other reason. He made Trixis feel as if she were the embodiment of grace as long as she did her chores with him.

She had the suspicion he only liked her because she kept the beatings to a minimum with her luck. And, he had confessed that he had been raised around Costal dwelling humans. It was enough for Trixis, though she has never learned his name.

They don't speak of their names here. Not where the Drow can overhear them. They are only 'slave'. Something to make all of the Drow's lives easier, she supposes. It seemed as logical as anything else. Honestly, Trixis only remembers her own name... because... well, due to...she _remembers_ it.

 _Somehow..._

But it matters naught. Her own master doubtlessly has no idea what her actual name is. That also suits her needs just fine. Slaves don't need names to clean up after the dark elves. Or to fetch food or drink.

The other one that clings more to Trixis, than the others, is a Thri-Kreen she mentally, but fondly, calls _'_ Twig'. She has no idea how he was caught, or much about him at all. But, his coloring was a beautiful honeyed-brown that reminds her of fields of wheat, which is a pleasant thought. Though, he does have one disturbing tendency.

...He watches her while she sleeps.

She isn't to clear on the _'why',_ or what he means by it. She just knows she awoken more than once to his large Mantis-like eyes staring at her, and it has taken all of her willpower not to shriek as if she's being carved open by a rusty blade.

Well, and as it turns out, 'Twig' never sleeps. Which also does much to unnerve Trixis.

The Priestesses of Lolth take 'Twig' sometimes, and when they bring him back, he is battered and his exoskeleton is broken in several places. Though they cannot speak to one another, Trixis is always the one that he slowly moves toward, no matter how badly he is harmed. She is also the only one that he allows within five feet of his person without causing harm to, or being beaten for his disobedience.

She doesn't need to speak, they have this much in mutal understanding, to help him.

OoOoO

Her master is _old._

Well, by human standards, he's so old that Trixis occasionally wonders if her great-grandfather knew him. However, to the Drow he is not considered old at all. Oh yes, he has decades under his belt, and it would also be fair to state he is a sadistic, twisted, piece of...

 _Follower of Lolth._

Trixis winces, at the near slip. The collar about her neck is uniquely tuned to sensing her emotions so she cannot betray her 'Master'. It also gives him some sort of twisted satisfaction, she believes, to see her in pain. He enjoys watching her as she takes the stings. Something glowing within his crimson gaze that causes her a moment of unease.

That would be right on par with every Drow she's ever known.

She doesn't exactly blame him for being quite so paranoid. If two thirds of the Drow are sacrificed or murdered by adolescence, it is a credit to him that he remains. Much to her displeasure.

She hisses as a sharp pain radiates from her neck.

Though not from a Noble house, her master was snapped up by one quickly enough. Wizards worth their talents always were. At least, that is what she has gathered from the others of this house, and the Matron that permits him far more liberties than the other males have.

Granted, it most certainly wasn't for free.

He had only to lend his time to a greater house when his Matron ordered him. Though she did so often when hoping to earn more favor or raise her status. Or whatever Drow did when they were backstabbing, or smiling...

Or breathing...

A jolt met her unkind thought, and Trixis sucked in a deep breath. She moved her thoughts more toward what was expected of her, as her Master left to the Wizard's council. She never accompanied him. Usually a Blade master of the house did that, or one of the higher ranking females in the house. It was some sort of homage to the position he had earned, by...

Surviving? Being good at casting spells? Excelling in making some priestess content with his breeding abilities?

The last one made her shudder. She'd witnessed a few Drow couplings. Two dragons that absolutely _hated_ each other, going at one another with claws and magic in some strange sexual death-combat, seemed friendlier than when the Drow... mated.

Actually, when she pondered on it over-long, she wasn't entirely certain what he did all day. She only knew that she was in charge of keeping things as he wanted them. Something that was a pain in the ass, on a better day-

She yelped as another jolt nipped at her neck, stronger than the first.

 _'Kind thoughts. Only kind thoughts.'_ She reminded herself as she saw 'Twig' peeking from around the end of the hall, being lead on a leash by one of the house Huntresses.

An image flashes, for the briefest of moments, of the Huntress attempting to fornicate with 'Twig'. This time, Trixis welcomes the pain, because it was far easier than erasing that image from her mind's eye.

OoOoOo

They have beaten into her, that she much worship Lolth, as a slave of their House. A house name that was far too good for a mere slave like herself to say.

Not that Trixis has ever tried. Or cared enough to try. She has no want to speak the name. It feels as if it would be as close to a blasphemy as she was willing to come. So, when the others offer up sacrifices. One that make her stomach pitch and churn in revulsion, she tampers down all thoughts about it. Her Master is clever, she admits that readily, but she had learned long ago that pure emotion could not be recognized by her collar.

It had to be conscious thought. Something that would make a Drow on edge. Such as thinking and planning. Scheming. Things Trixis does not do.

Yet, each night, when her master sleeps... or goes off to do whatever it is he does, Trixis' knees hit the ground and she prays. An instinctual feeling lets her know it is safe. She has never been caught yet.

Though the surface world is thousands of feet above her, and freedom is the farthest thought from her mind. She is meant to be here, she simply does not know why. Nor does she need to know, just yet. She pays homage to a God most had forgotten. One that had been replaced in the pantheon, whose holy reach could no longer be felt by the masses.

With her eyes tightly shut, she pours forth her most honest devotions. She does not need to see, to worship. She only requites the silence and the time to pray. Even though she had been beaten, and treated very poorly, her 'Master' cannot have this. The Spider Queen Lolth, cannot touch her in this moment. This belongs only to Tyr.

And she will die a thousand deaths, to keep it that way.

Something in her needs it to be so.

OoOoOo

Her Master does not force himself on her. He never has.

However, he has made unwilling bed-companions join him in his rooms before. She's heard and... _seen..._ the like of it before. Trixis does make the effort not to watch, but there have been occasions when he has possessed someone that has caught his interest, where he wants her to witness the act.

It's not... not pretty and the first time he made her watch him lord his dominance over a lesser 'creature' was sickening and made her ill for more than a few days afterward. He was particularly vicious to other elf kind. And, when it was another Drow, she couldn't take the amount of blood that was somehow involved with the act. Not his, but the female's.

Her Master held an aversion to bedding those higher than him in rank, or any sort of nobility. Though, she recalled a time when he had been pursued by someone, she could not place the name nor the face. The attempt had died out rather quickly, if she remembered correctly. Then again, she knew precious little of her Master. No doubt, he wanted it that way. After all, she was just a human slave.

Worthless, except to clean his things, and serve him.

Though, the first time he takes a _human_ slave to his bed, the woman is a sobbing mess. It unnerves her, to see another woman suffer so. The others he had taken held more experience. They were unwilling, or reluctant, but they had suffered such a treatment before. This woman likely, had not.

It was still wrong and chaffed at the human as she watched him descend upon his newest 'adventure'. Or whatever he was calling it that day. The woman cried out for help. Trixis cannot blame her. Something within her swells forward and she moves from kneeling position he wants her to stay in as she watches.

His red eyes burn at her, but Trixis actually holds his gaze. Something she normally never does. She usually kept her head down. But, this instance, she cannot sit idly by as the other human sobs. Though nothing is said, the act alone of moving is defiant enough. Trixis compounds the trouble she might receive, by minutely shaking her head at him.

She expects pain. She is braced for the worst.

Her master orders her from the room. Nauseated, she complies.

The screams start soon after, and it is like a dagger through her side. It _hurts._

 _"_ Master," she says softly, a denial in the tone. Logically, it is far too quiet for him to hear her over the agonized wails. "Stop."

The Darfellan comes lumbering out in as quick but as quiet steps as he can manage, he would never make a passable thief, and looks over at her. A touch of anxiety on his face.

He opens his mouth, at the same times the screams abruptly stop.

"I thought it was you-"

The door opens, and her Master's crimson gaze is upon her once more. Dark skin in prominent contrast to the stark white of his hair. She doesn't look up at him. She can feel the weight of his stare, she has known it for years now. His fingers grasp her chin, and he tilts it upward. Trixis, like a good slave, doesn't meet his gaze. But, her eyes betray her, and they slid toward the bit of his room that she can see under his arm.

"Master Yauntykur-"

A fissure of magic rents the air, powerful and quick. The Darfellan is knocked backward, a light reprimand by her Master's standards. But her Oceanic 'friend' will be down for weeks with painful injuries.

Trixis stares at the unmoving body, and she knows what it means.

He did not use this slave for pleasure, he killed her instead. Bitterly, she was certain that his Goddess Lolth was pleased.

 _'Disturbed, sick -'_

She winced as a jolt of electricity reminded her of her place.

"You disgust me," her Master says with a tone that suggests that she is lucky to be alive at the moment. "You pathetically weak _humans."_

Her response is mechanical. Hollow.

"As my Master says it, it must be so." Her command of his language is still not refined, still halted in some pronunciations.

He snarls a disapproval, releasing her, as if she has contaminated him in some way. Without waiting for his permission, a large mistake she will pay for later, Trixis silently moves around her Master toward the human woman. Quietly, she kneels, much as her Master had wanted her to earlier, and she gently reaches out to push back a lock of misplaced hair on the corpse. Her expression is achingly tender and infinitely sad.

It had been so long since she'd seen another human...

Crimson eyes watch her with simmering rage, and something much darker.

OoOoOo

She doesn't know how humans... mourn for humans. Drow don't mourn, not in any way that makes sense to a side of Trixis that is so deeply rooted that it can never be taken out. More often than naught, she's heard whispered tails that their children kill their mothers.

It's not exactly a sympathetic society, if she were perfectly sincere.

The lashing she received, heals much faster than she lets on. The marks remain, but the muscles, sinew, and skin heal over shortly after he is done 'reeducating' her. She doesn't know how long it takes for humans to heal, but comments have been made in the past about her injuries going away sooner than her Master would like. So, she plays up the idea that she is hobble and must go slowly to carry out his orders.

Lying has been her greatest asset for a while now.

'Twig' stood guard over her and the Darfellan last night. She didn't even scream when she noticed his large insectoid eyes staring directly at her again. Nor did she sleep a wink. Her mind was too caught up in what had happened. It must have been some new way to torture everyone involved, she decided long after the fires were extinguished as she laid down in the communal room with the other slaves.

Yet, the screams still haunt her, but she does her best to push them away. She has heard many like them before. Perhaps not from her Master's room, but from others.

Grimly, she wonders if her turn will come next. But, she prays it will never come at all. Listless, she spends her nights understanding that it could easily have been her. Though, some small part of her doubts it very much. Another part, filled to the brim with a life time of Drow 'experiences' with their slaves, knows that her Master could choose, on a whim to whore her out.

A fate far worse than the death she's witnessed.

That thought gives her a smattering of peace. Perhaps it was the better fate for the woman, after all.

OoOoOo

Her Master leaves for his next 'assignment' ordered by his Matron, and Trixis is glad to see him go. His ruby-red eyes take in her subservient mannerisms with no small amount of -what equates for a Drow- Joy.

Those that remain to lord over the slaves, give her a wide berth, and she presses some of that to her advantage. Her Master has earned his liberties, and Trixis has suffered for hers. The ones that allow her to check on her Darfellan friend for the first time in days. Her eyes glance around in a nervous sort of excitement that is combined with a sickening feeling of impending doom.

Because she is, literally, going behind the backs of Drow, which is as hard if not harder to do than it sounds. Trixis slips into the shadows as her 'betters' strut about in the glow of unholy fire light. The youngest warrior of the house has let his guard duties slip somewhat, for he was being 'summoned' by a priestess of an allied House. It was in her favor, and she thanked Tyr for that blessing.

Softly, she crept into the communal room, where he has not left and has barely been tended too. It has taken this long just to make it seem plausible that she had nothing to do with what would be a 'full' recovery.

Softly, her hand traces the worst of his wounds, it has festered. Angry welts and putrid pus are visible. he smells of rot and decay, it is an unpleasant thing. However, in his current state, something bordering on near delirium -though she thinks that 'Twig' has been trying to look after him-, Trixis finds her center. A moment of calm and peace settles over her.

Everything is right in this world and all others.

She is calm and balanced. She does not need to see as her right hand tingles with warmth.

It only takes a few moments, and she can sense the wound knitting closed. The flesh has been cleansed of its disease and has become shiny like obsidian once more. There is no pain that she senses from him. His labored breathing eases, and she smiles softly. This is her thanks for his bravery, and his kindness.

That unknown voice in her seems to sing as she uses this gift. Though, she does not fully understand what it is, a part of her buries the memory away to protect herself.

It isn't time yet.

 _That something isn't strong enough yet._


	2. Chapter 2

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas. Or Dungeons and Dragons for which this story is based off of._**

 ** _So there was a question about Drizzt. If he shows up it will be more of a Cameo than anything._ And, yes, I do like Clerics, but I disagree with somethings, as I am sure many D &D players do. However, to clarify, no... Trixis is unaware she is a Cleric. Trixis is a character that is OC, therefore Created. I played her once on a campaign, but she was a follower of Wee-Jas when I played her. **

OoOoOo

The night is silent. The time when Trixis feels that things are the most deadly. She knows the hustle and bustle of the House carry a certain... well, not _safety_ , but expectation, as she carries about her duties. 'Twig' is with her, watching her as he seemed to scuttle about. She cannot really speak with him, she doubts he understands her tongue and she hasn't the _first clue_ about his. Not that she hasn't tried listening to his 'noises' of speech. It just seems like an exercise in futility, but she is almost for it.

When they aren't torturing people, acting like twisted creatures of the dark, or downright _insane_ -

"Ow..." She muttered as another jolt racked through her.

Her Master had increased the power on the collar, she was certain of it. She felt a little bit of tiredness as her body healed the minor burn it left behind.

When the _Magnificent_ Drow weren't causing chaos in the name of their Goddess, they were rather boring. In the same way a dragon lurking in a cave is boring. Oh, yes, of course you know it could kill you in an instant, but it isn't moving or doing anything _yet_ and that makes it all rather tedious. At times, granted such a moment of calm usually came before some sort of awful event.

Last time, they'd strangled one of the slaves with a snake-head whip. Trixis, had found it all rather unjust, for the creature hadn't stood a chance at defending itself. Nor, had she actually made a slight against the Priestess, but apparently there was some interpretation that she had. Then again, the Drow rarely _required_ a reason to cause pain or harm. Which was also expected.

As much as one could expect and deal with madness.

'Twig' makes a sound, like fingernails scraping across stone, that catches her attention. Trixis pauses, as she puts down the load of laundry she is to wash for her Master. She had been taking too long with gathering it, her head caught somewhere in the clouds and still centered around the dangers that crop up only when the House is quiet.

And the spiders. The spiders or the imagery thereof was everywhere. Trixis did not leave the house, but she could see the Architecture through the windows. She could see the towering dark spires that pointed like spider's legs, upwards. Menacing and large. Dark and foreboding, like the place and its people. The flames that glowed from every structure, and the beasts that circled overhead. Granted the nearly intricate web designs could have been considered a testament to the craftsmen, but it looks more like the echoes of death and destruction to Trixis.

She lowers her eyes the moment that the Patron passes by the hall. She knew better than to even gaze near him. Only to stare at the ground, sometimes, depending on his mood, the Patron demanded the slaves grovel. Then he punished them for his entertainment. He enjoyed killing and death. Most Drow did. So it was not far from uncommon. However, she was smart enough to know, that if the Patron was being summoned, the Matron was in need of him.

She mentally shuddered.

There was no kindness between the two. It was, as far as she understood, a political match of some sort. He was the newest consort of the Matron, far more... vicious than the others. The last consort had been tortured and executed after being found at fault for offending a higher rank of another Noble house. What, exactly, he had done had never been spoken of.

The Matron had taken it all rather well, Trixis would not have been surprised if the Drow plotted her consort's demise. Or one of her daughters had. The eldest daughter was the embodiment of a Priestess of Lolth, and she had taken many to her bed, whenever the mood struck her -it seemed- and few survived it. The silver-haired harpy-

Trixis hissed a breath, trying not to make noise. This blasted collar...

'Twig' made a similar noise in response, though his somehow seemed like one of agreement. It was entirely possible that she has said something, but had no idea as to what it was or might have been.

Oh well.

She lifted her head once more. The Patron would not be back for a quite some time. He would likely call for one of the bed slaves after his time with the Matron. He was never discreet, however neither did he offend. It was a blade-thin edge he walked. Especially within these walls. One embarrassment or slip up was all it usually took for someone to usurp a male's place. The need for more power and to secure his station likely had him feeling akin to a cornered animal. Trixis knew the feeling well enough. She was content being a slave, for now. It had its purpose, she was certain of it.

She was needed here. Just yet.

Quick steps, met her internal conviction. Trixis glanced to her right to see another slave coming toward her. The orc female was tall, and her muscles put Trixis to shame. Her gray skin was slicked with sweat, and her tusks glinted slightly as did her red eyes. She mused on how they were still highly different from the hatred laden eyes of the Drow.

They had hardly interacted, perhaps once or twice to ready things when an important guest might make an appearance, or when things needed to be gathered for a ritual. However, she belonged to a priestess of the house, Trixis couldn't recall which one precisely. It might have been the second or third daughter. The orc was dressed in nicer garb than what Trixis possessed, it was by no means fancy, but she did not see much filth on the Orc. Even her hair was neatly and tightly braided.

She blinked as the Orc stopped in front of her.

"You are free?"

Well, that seemed like a loaded question. Trixis grinned in spite of herself.

"No, still a slave."

The orc's face shifted to confusion. Then a light seemed to dawn in her red gaze.

"Ah, that is to mean that you are able to assist me?"

Better phrasing, she granted. Trixis briefly thought of her Master's washing, but he was out past the dinner hour. That meant he was off... doing whatever he did. He would likely not return for a day or more. She had time, she was certain.

"I am able to help," she agreed with a hint of suspicion. "Why?"

The orc's larger hands clenched.

"You are small."

 _'Alright...'_

"And?" The human replied raising a dark brown brow.

The Orc female made a noise of mounting frustration. It honestly wasn't Trixis' fault that she didn't understand where the Orc was going with this. She wasn't really trying to be difficult.

"And that is why you must help."

She glanced at the Orc once more, trying not to be exasperated.

"Because I am small."

The braids of her hair bobbed slightly as she nodded fiercely.

' _What in Tyr's name is she going on about?'_ The human wondered idly. It would probably be more prudent simply to follow her. Carefully, Trixis held up her Master's washing and smiled to ease any tension that the Orc might still have.

"One moment, I must put these down."

Red eyes stared at the laundry a moment before she released a huff.

"Hurry. Hurry." The Orc slave urged.

Trixis snorted softly. They were both the same station here, and whatever the Orc needed could wait the few moments it would take to ensure that Trixis didn't receive a worse whipping than last time. She wasn't the sort that found satisfaction in pain. She nodded all the same, signaling that she heard the Orc and opened the door to her Master's room. She folded the laundry and placed it down at the foot of his bed. She would return for it and clean it after she finished with the Orc.

Said Orc, was impatiently shifting by the door way when Trixis emerged.

Hm. Must be important to the Orc then.

"Ready?" Trixis asked, in a rhetorical yet slightly sarcastic manner.

The orc grabbed her wrist. The gray skin was warm and slightly rougher than Trixis had imagined it would be.

"Yes. Come."

OoOoOo

Trixis was frozen in the door way.

Her blue gaze stared at the mangled image of skinned Drow male on the floor.

Alright, that had not been what she had considered the Orc female was asking for help with. She blinked, and still the muscle, tendon, and even bone were exposed before her. She held no love of the Drow, but even this seemed _horrible_ , by her human standards.

She made a noise, one of disbelief, and her mouth closed slowly, as she continued to eye the dead thing on the floor.

"Mistress's rival," the Orc offered by way of explanation a mutter of annoyance in her tone.

Trixis furrowed her brow, not quite comprehending what that really had to do with the dead male on the floor. Was it a warning? A threat? She made a gesture toward the lump of useless flesh.

"W...wha...what?"

The red eyes pierced her, a look of contempt could be made out between the jutting tusks. The Orc glanced at the body, looking nearly blasé about the whole ordeal. Because, the thought occurred to Trixis, that she saw skinned Drow all the time. She was suddenly slightly grateful to have her sadistic master over a female Drow, if this sort of thing were commonplace.

The orc grabbed at the Drow corpse, pulling it up with ease. Well, it seemed she didn't need help moving the body, which was a vast relief to the Human.

"Mistress's rival," the Orc grunted as she lifted up her burden, "gave up."

Confusion and horror waged a war for expression across the human's face. Trixis had a very hard time believing that this was 'giving up'. Then again, by Drow standards...

"On?" The human asked with a bland sort of expectation that somehow this was going to get slightly worse.

"On the male," came the reply as if such a thing were obvious.

Yes, that cleared things up.

"So, the rival killed the male?"

The Orc grunted in agreement, as dark blood dripped on the floor. Trixis had a sinking feeling.

"And brought him here?"

She gestured with a point to the floor of the room. The gray-skinned Orc nodded.

" _Why_?" The human demanded, aghast.

The orc shrugged, and the corpse jiggled a bit, causing Trixis to blanch. Whoever he was, he had died a slow and painful death.

"So Mistress could not have him."

She covered her mouth, as she sorted out that _lovely_ bit of information. She reiterated her earlier thoughts that the Drow were stark-raving-

"Ow," Trixis muttered as the collar jolted her again.

The Orc huffed a gruff laugh, sounding genuinely amused.

"It hurt." The tusks glinted in the fire light. "Indeed."

That hadn't been what she meant, precisely. However, it was doubtlessly accurate. She shifted her weight, watching as the Orc carried the Drow male out.

"And... you need me...why?" Trixis asked slowly, trying to piece together why the Orc wouldn't be able to-

"You are to clean."

Ah.

"Clean?" The human argued, growing annoyed. She had cleaning of her own to do. She did not need the burden of more.

"You are small, can reach the cracks and corners better."

The Orc saw this as perfectly logical. Trixis saw it as a form of trickery and deceit. The Orc would have been able to reach the nooks and crannies just fine.

"Hurry," the other female warned her, as she left with the body.

Suddenly, she keenly missed the quiet boredom that had put her on edge before. She glanced at the dark blood all over the floor and on the walls. Her blue gaze roved over the blood stains in the tapestries, and on the Mistress's bed. As curious as it was angering, some of it was on the ceiling.

How in this plane, or another, was she supposed to reach that?

OoOoOo

She scrubbed until her skin peeled.

The water had to be emptied and refilled so many times that she lost track. The soap was something that came from the above-world. She was certain of it. The lingering scent of a distant memory came from the stark white bubbles against the dark water, tainted with Drow blood. Some sort of oil or herb tugged at a part of her that even Trixis had forgotten. It rouses no images from the depths of her mind, but it leaves a lingering sense of distant fondness.

Even as she cleans up what is best termed as 'guts' from the floor.

The walls were easy, and she still had to figure out a way to reach the ceiling without stepping on the Mistress's things. Maybe she could get 'Twig' to help her. She wiped at her cheek with her wrist, which had begun to itch from a stray strand of her hair. She can feel a faint tingle as the Drow's blood is likely on her face now. Fantastic! Just what she needed. It made her feel faintly grimy just at the simple mistake.

The Mistress, Priestess or whoever she was, had come by once while Trixis was cleaning. The pride-filled red gaze had lingered on the human for longer than Trixis felt comfortable with. The Drowess had not even appeared all that upset by the dead body in her room. In fact, she appeared oddly pleased by the turn of events. No doubt it was a show of some sort of victory over her rival. Trixis briefly wondered if she had actually wanted the male at all, to begin with.

Deceit was a way of life here.

Her beautiful face is a mask of cold egotism as she leans against the nearby, now cleaned, wall.

"Filinid sends me his slave? For such a small mess?" She questions with a lightness to her words. "How considerate."

Trixis is smart enough to know not to speak, and to not pause in her work. The Priestess does not want, nor require a reply. And, for a moment Trixis ponders if she will be punished for helping the Orc, if word gets back to her Master. The velvet-like purr that came from the Drow's word causes the hair on the back of the human's neck to stand on end. Trixis keeps her head bowed as she scrubs with all her might at the stain that stubbornly refuses to come out.

However, the realization comes crashing in, that she has never heard her Master's first name before. Its not... not as scary as she would have thought it would be. In her head, he would have had a much more _menacing_ fist name. 'Filinid' however, sounds so...

Well, _not_ menacing.

Trixis nearly grins, but catches herself. The Priestess would take it as an invitation to provide her with a 'lesson'. It bothers the Human, that they think so highly of themselves, but then they also hate all other Drow, so it is a strange state of existence.

The Drow says nothing more, likely conjuring images of killing babies and eating them. The jolt comes, even though she was expecting it. Trixis cannot help but believe that it was worth the moment of pain.

OoOoOo

Exhausted, and reeking of above world soap with Drow blood, Trixis finally makes her way toward her Master's quarters to gather the washing she had left behind. The guards pay her no mind as she passes by in the corridors. She is beneath them. Lesser than dirt. Something she is keenly aware of.

The lights have been extinguished in the slave common room, which was unsurprising given the time of night. She felt a moment of unkindness for the Orc that was likely sleeping peacefully in a cozy heap of straw or whatever passed for a bed to the slave of a Priestess of the house. Though not a powerful noble house, her Master had been taken in by one for his talents. However, he did not bare the name of the House.

Her hands ached as she pushed past the magical barrier of her Master's room. It activated at night, and permitted Trixis entrance, due to her collar, she believed. It bore her Master's emblem and she was suspicious that his name was one there somewhere as well. Though, she had no idea if that were true. Trixis could not read. Especially the dark elfish of the Drow.

It was dark in his room, and bore a faint scent of vellum and ink. As a slave, she had no way to adjust his magical things. It was forbidden. His technology was also out of her reach. So, she would continue in the dark. She moved forward at a normal pace, toward the clothing she had folded earlier. She knew where his bed was, but still bumped against it in the dark. Far to dark for her to see in.

"Oh," escaped her lips, without thought.

Her hands patted the edge of the bed. She felt the rich fabric of the bead spread that her Master favored. Spider silk. She mentally rolled her eyes at that, but it did make a fair amount of sense. The poor weaver had been forced into destitution by the Priestess of the houses that were unwilling to pay for his services, he now eked out a living by 'working' for this house. Though he was as much of a slave as Trixis was, just baring a different title.

...And he was beaten less, to be fair.

She patted for the clothing, but instead of feeling the heavier cloth, that she had been expecting, she felt something bulky underneath the cover.

What was that?

Placing her hand flat against the object, in a firm manner, she moved it slightly upward. It took a moment for her brain to relay the message of what she was feeling.

A foot.

Her _Master's_ foot, to be precise. Her eyes widened in the darkness, as she heard and felt him shift. She took a step back quickly, the darkness all about her as she held her breath.

This was as far from good, as good could get. A terrible situation, to be certain.

Human instinct urged her to move backward even more, but slowly. Like one would when facing an enraged beast. Her gaze moves about, trying to make out if she had awoken him. She couldn't hear anything, but her heart was racing, and it made listening more difficult as she fought against herself not to breathe rapidly.

Blindly, she backed up to where she thought the door should be. Her eyes could make out nothing. She swallows, near panic when she felt the sensation of warm breath upon her cheek.

" _Slave."_

The snarl of her title makes her jump and she presses up against the door. Or a wall. Her hands flatten out on the hardness behind her, as she lowers her head. Running from him was, sadly, not an option. She forces herself to hold still. Something in her warns her that he could see her and her actions easily.

There is a strong hand at her throat, before she can utter so much as a word. Not that he wants one, she's certain. She will be punished. It is a sure as the next sacrifice to Lolth. As her prayers to Tyr at night. She thinks that he might strangle her, end her life here and now for daring to _touch_ him, though she had no intention of doing so. The hand tenses around her throat, and does feel fear in that moment.

Drow are unpredictable, and they are _very_ dangerous.

His finger slides across her skin, touching her collar briefly. It warms slightly under his touch, no doubt due to some arcane ability or spell. Trixis draws in a breath, letting go of it quickly to hide her mounting concern and fear.

"Who sent you?" The question is quiet, and equally as deadly as his magic.

She parts her lips, and they tremble slightly.

"No one, Master. I came to finish your washing." She stated as quickly as she could manage, without her voice wavering. Drow thrived off of pain and if she showed too much weakness, he would not leave her alone. Sternly she reminded herself that courage was not the absence of fear. Surely some warriors still fought though they were afraid?

There is a long moment of silence, as if he is seeking the truth from her. He probably is. A slave entering his rooms in the night, without permission. Trixis could almost feel the bite of the snake whip already. She would not be getting off easily, she wasn't foolish enough to even hope that.

Mercy is not a concept that Drow embrace, and she isn't certain they even know what it is, except a chance for vengeance.

But, they do know power, and he does have power over her. And, they are both aware of it. His finger hooks under the collar, as his hand tightened around her throat. Her admission has angered him, but letting him think she was there to harm him was infinitely worse. So much worse. Her thoughts skitter at the pressure around her neck. For the moment she can breathe, however it is not easy.

A faint rasp escapes her as she fights for the air that takes effort to pull into her lungs.

She can feel the thundering of her heart beat and the painful pressure that is building in her face. She could sense that she was flushed red already. The darkness compounds the sensation of his hand upon her. It is not a pleasant feeling. The edges of panic are filling in her thoughts and Trixis attempts to hold them back. There is precious little that she can do against him.

A Wizard of considerable power, especially compared to her.

"I could kill you without thought," he hissed from the darkness, as if he could read her thoughts.

Yes, she was aware of that.

"Useless human! You cannot even finish simple tasks. You are worthless."

Her skin prickled at his words, and she did not attempt to correct his assumption. Trixis couldn't explain why, but she knew she wasn't without worth. However, one did not get far arguing with a Drow. It often made them smile. She knew from experience that a Drow smiling meant that you should run, if you were able. For as long as you were able. In any direction, really.

Of their own volition, her eyes shifted to where she heard his voice, though she kept her gaze lowered.

Suddenly, the pressure was removed, as his hand lifted from her.

An explosion of pain emerged from her cheek, as she tumbled to the floor with a surprised cry. The floor came upon her suddenly as she landed in an ungraceful heap. She did not struggle as his hand fisted cruelly in her hair. And she moved to her knees as he pulled her up. Her face twisted in discomfort. Still, she could not see him. Part of her honestly did not want to.

"I ought to feed you to the spiders."

She shivered at the threat. She was not fond of the spiders, and she had seen more than one 'useless' slave fed to them. The clacking of their mandibles as they devoured their live prey. Or the tortured screams as they wrapped the victim only to slowly digest their organs later. She can sense the heat of him again. And, her ears made out the slightest sound of fabric brushing against fabric.

His breath was hot on her face, once more.

"Does that frighten you, slave?"

The question seems off, somehow, there is the taunting lit to his words she knows when he wants a certain reaction from those he terrifies. However, there is a difference in his tone she cannot quite place.

"Yes, Master." Trixis answered, knowing that keeping silent might upset him further. His fingers tighten around the locks of hair he has grasped, pulling harder. She bites back at a grunt of pain.

"Remember that, the next time you dare to touch what is so clearly above you. Filthy human."

He shoved at the back of her head, releasing her hair, as the room exploded with underground light. Trixis winced, and blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of illumination. Involuntarily, her gaze found his legs, covered with black pants. Her blue eyes moved upward, seeing the sneer on his face for a moment. The crimson eyes that stared down at her from her position on the floor.

The bastard was actually standing above her-

She twitched as the collar reminded her to think only happy thoughts.

It would seem her uncomfortable time alone with her Master was not to end yet. As he kicked her side sharply. She let out a surprised yelp at the hard blow. She should not have looked up at him, she realized her error.

"I had an intriguing conversation with Priestess Luatyna this evening."

Dread pools in her stomach, that parts that aren't preoccupied with possibly dry heaving over the floor. She closes her eyes against the pain she knows is coming. Her Master wishing to speak with her is also not a good sign.

"It would seem that I sent you to help her... with a slight _mess_."

She can hear the amusement in his voice at the word 'mess'. The whole house likely knows about it by now.

"When did I order you to do that, and ignore _your_ duties to _me_?"

"Never Mas-"

"Never." He agrees with malice and the single word is biting in its own regard.

 _'Tyr, help me.'_ She thinks in an urgent prayer. This situation could quickly grow out of hand, it had already. Drow did not often, if at all, afford second chances and here she was ... about to die...

Something prods within her, and pours out of her mouth before it can be halted. It tumbles forth in such a way, that it sounds nearly sincere to her own ears. Frightened, she granted, but sincere.

"It was needed, Master. I am yours, after all. Of this house, I am property only to you."

The silence was deafening, as he continues to stare a near hole through her lowered head.

"Needed?" He questions lowly.

Trixis thinks of nothing but the words are their own.

"The Priestess did not want the male," she regurgitates what she had deduced from the brief encounter. "She wanted, only, to take him away from her rival."

Her Master says nothing.

"She is the strongest Priestess of the house, and her favor is crucial to Master."

That was true. On both counts, Trixis understood that... somehow. For this moment, she simply believes that this is the desperate rambling of a woman that does not want to die. Which, hey... look at that... she is.

He drums his fingers against his leg, a sense of boredom.

"So you thought to help clean up a simple mess? To ignore a standing order from your _Master_. You are trying to save your own skin! Tell me, how that would gain me favor."

Trixis blanched slightly, and swallowed.

"She called it 'Considerate', Master."

His hand clamps down around the back of her neck, and she freezes at the touch. Her muscles tense and waiting for the worst. However, he does nothing more than hold her there, like that for several minutes. A form of its own psychological torture, she is sure. His fingers brushed against her collar once more. It tingles slightly.

"Take the washing." He commands after an eternity. "It had better be finished before I arise."

Still he holds her neck, a firm squeeze is given and she arches slightly at the sudden pressure. Once she is released, Trixis rose from her prone position, and grabbed the clothes without delay.

His crimson eyes watched her the entire time.

OoOoOo

Two days pass, and Trixis avoids her Master at all costs, but she does know or... rather hears from the Orc slave, that her Master has been asked to grace the Priestesses bed. An honor for a common born Drow, who had risen through his sheer power alone. He had also come out with only a few wounds. Relief courses through her at the news.

Perhaps, he will leave her alone now.

OoOoOo

She scarcely has time to turn around, when she feels his hand on her neck again. Only this time, the light is on and she had been readying his bath. The water exactly as he liked it upon returning from the Wizard's council, but the tub was not full yet. He preferred to bathe in the safety of his room, and the Darfellan had to lift the metal tub for her and carry it in. He also would help her empty it later.

Her eyes lower instantly, and she racks her brain for why he is back so early.

" _Slave."_ He says again, with a strange note to the title.

Less hate, and more indifference.

She says nothing, as he backhands her once more. His red eyes watch her, and she refuses to speak unless she is told to directly. He orders her to fill his bath, and stay in the room. She doesn't want to. A dull flush surfaces on her cheeks, when he is naked before her, as he lowers himself into the water. Though he does ignore her, Trixis knows that one false move will get her killed.

Much like the foolish blowhard that tries to kill her Master the very next day.

Another male Drow attacks him, and her Master not only defends himself, it was considered by some as a laughable attempt of an execution. The other Drow mock the one that dies a painful death at her Master's hands. Under the name of Lolth, of course. The house is a buzz with how the match gained them some added reputation, and the Priestess calls her Master to bed once more.

Trixis feels great unease, when her Master summons her directly after providing the Priestess her 'entertainment'.

OoOoOo

It becomes some odd ritual, far too quickly for Trixis' tastes.

Her Master still treats her harshly, cruelly, and her skin occasionally bares the marks of his need to 'vent' his stress. She is his property, and he has taken to reminding her of that fact. She doesn't understand why, but does know that under their society it is the truth. She is only his. His slaps do not decrease, and her face stings more than once a night.

Mater's rival for the next position within the Wizard's council dies at the hand of an irate Matron. Which means further prestige upon the House her Master is attached to. It gives him a chance to be treated with a bit more respect than her Master has ever been granted before. To celebrate, he orders strong drink and rare foods of the Under dark. Without provocation, he beats her and forces her to sit in his quarters, until he releases her.

A few hours before she is supposed to awaken to start her day of servitude all over again.

However, she heals from his attention, and goes about her duties. Completely unaware of how her Master has been perceived as being blessed by Lolth for his string of unexpected good luck.

Or how he attributes some of it to his ownership over her. Like a charm, or that the pain he inflicts upon Trixis pleases the Goddess.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _Having a hard time moving along in my main project. Eight pages typed today, and the entire time I kept thinking that I hope its better than I think it is._**

 **Thanks for reading! And to those that have reviewed. :D**

OoOoOo

Whatever a Drow wished, a Drow would take without provocation or any sense of regret. In fact, it would not have been a stretch to claim that they wanted praise for bothering to deal with something so beneath them. Trixis often thinks such a thing is rather absurd. Yet, sometimes her mind wanders, prone to stray like an errant sheep, that her Master might except her to be grateful that he elicits an expectation of pain from her.

How strange for him, it must be, that she does not feel a need to _thank_ him for his efforts.

Her Master has called for her nearly every night. Each seemingly worse than the last. However, his attentions and cruel brutality deal no lasting damage. It is a fact that gains Trixis the dubious 'honor' of being the creature that can withstand the worst of his tensions and anger. Though, why he is so upset, she cannot fathom. He had, by her grasp of Drow society from inside this house, gotten everything a male usually aspired to.

Yet, she thinks he holds the assumption that the Darfellan and Thri-kreen are helping her with her wounds. Or perhaps, even another slave. They were confined in the same common area, unless a slave was called for a bedmate or a favorite. Of which, Trixis was neither. That small instinct within her, warned her not to upset him over much. She felt a wave of exhaustion from being forced to recover so often as of late.

The inkling that her Master was suspicious of another coming to her aid was compounded by the natural Drow tendency to trust no-one. Master had taken to separating them out night after night, this last fortnight to see how quickly she might recover without one or more slaves in the room with her. Unfortunately, it had caused the death of one of the slaves, for a spider was still apparently hungry.

She shuddered, recalling her Master's last threat. Why did it always have to come back to spiders? Or why was his wrath so suddenly visited upon her nearly constantly?

Granted, she is a mere house salve, but to her eyes, it was a decent life her Master held. At least, by their wicked kind's rules.

Master _Filinid_ , and she is heartily glad that her amusement does not set her collar off -lest she be permanently marred from this blasted thing-, has found a higher status and the whispers of the Orc slave hinted that he might be accepting the house name soon. Which was as prestigious as it was uncommon. He had been set apart from the other Wizards that were at the Matron's disposal, and now some of the Mages answered to him directly.

So, when his strength was used upon her flesh as a canvas for new bruises, as a painter might lovingly create a work of art, she wondered what had set him off this day. And, though it is not a kind thought, and she is punished for it, she cannot help but consider the fact that he has other slaves at his disposal in the house. They are but property, surely some other would make an amusing toy?

If only for a single evening.

OoOoOo

Her luck, the Darfellan had commented upon the other evening, must have finally been waning. Her lips thin into a frown at his words, softly uttered. It was not in a gloating tone, but a worried one with which he spoke. His shiny black and white skin glowed faintly under the flame light. Trixis had silently agreed with that observation. The other Drow left her nearly entirely alone, yet her Master had developed an opposite stance.

He seemed fixated on harming her.

Something in her twitches uncomfortably, as if to warn her when he enters the house now. It is akin to a lead weight in the pit of her stomach, and no matter where she is in the house, Trixis ducks away from whatever task she had been doing. There are times, when listening to that small prompting, had at least delayed the pain. However, she has nowhere to go and no one to protect her.

'Twig' lurks in the corner these days, trying to get the best glance down the hall, or hear the Drow Wizard before he comes for her. No one would dare defy him. The most powerful priestess of the House has called him to her bed, and that grants him a slight advantage, though Trixis knows that he does not want to be sought after by those higher than himself.

Yet, Drow were self-serving creatures. It was an unspoken rule, she believed, of following Lolth. If being a breeding partner for the Priestess kept him as useful and possibly granted him more power, just shy of politics, it made a great deal of sense that her Master had leapt upon the chance. However, the Drow did not love. Trixis understood that easily, by how often they killed their bed partners. The twisted, sadistic-

"Gah," she huffed, clutching at the collar. Her Master had altered her collar again, the sensation of his magic had washed over her as he moved glowing symbols about. He had grinned at his handiwork, though she had not seen it. Her eyes had been downcast, as her split lip stung. But, she could feel his satisfaction from it.

Now, what had produced unpleasant shocks and even minor burns, had her grasping at the walls for support. A cold sweat broke out upon her brow, as she blinked to clear the tears from her vision. It took another moment to suck in a breath that did not seem to make the pain worse. She could sense the energy leaving her as her body sought to repair itself.

With Tyr's name lingering on her thoughts in a silent plea for strength and a devotion to his glory, Trixis continued to walk quietly down the section of the house that lead past the Kitchen. The Drow were eating, and that meant that Master would be returning home shortly. She could nearly sense it, like a prickling of her skin against an unseen danger. Instinct nearly screamed at her to avoid him, and she listened.

As much as she was able.

In her thoughts, kind thoughts -because her endurance is failing against the jolts of her collar-, she envisions a happier scenario where the Priestess will keep him tied up. For a day, mayhap three if she were exceedingly lucky. Which was to her Master's benefit as well. Her gaze catches sight of stark-white hair and she stills.

It is a force of habit, but her stomach does not feel weighted, and the normal fear that settles within her blood, fails to come. She takes a moment to realize that the Drow, hunched over the dying stone hearth, where the soldiers often unwind before taking their guard rotations, is one of the Sargtlin. A warrior of the house that was trained, by the look of his armor, and usually Trixis rarely saw them. A human in a Drow house, was not a charmed life. In fact, it was rare that she had made it as long as she had as a Slave.

He appeared preoccupied with the flames, or the dying embers, whichever he was dealing with. She did not feel the need to stay any longer as the male's attention was away from her. And, that was the perfect time to make her escape, because time was still slowly trickling away before Master would find her. He always found her. Trixis thought that the collar might help slightly, but she had been able to avoid him when she earnestly pulled upon her luck or when he came home later than expected.

However, she could not refuse him. He was intelligent, one did not get to his position by lacking wits. And, he knew that a slave could not skulk about after certain hours. It was to invite death. Something Trixis was not prone to do.

Her feet hardly made a sound against the stone as she moved past the doorway, hoping to leave the guard to his inner musings. It appeared that her luck held fast, at least on this night, for he did not turn. She gave a mental prayer of thanks to Tyr.

One that was nearly swallowed whole, as she nearly crashed into another being in the few steps where she had not been properly looking. Trixis shrunk back, turning her gaze downward, and averting her face.

' _Hold still',_ she thought errantly.

She was waiting for noise, or shouting. Perhaps some heavy scolding and a physical reminder of her station for good measure. The Drow were unpredictable, but they usually enjoyed causing pain and chaos in Lolth's name or simply because it served a purpose. What that was, she did not know. Chaos seemed purposeless by nature.

The rough grab at her face, stops any other thought. The Drow's thumb digs into the tender flesh of her chin as her head is tilted this way, then that. If he is memorizing her face, then he has not seen her before.

Which she is uncertain is a blessing or a curse until the next moments pass.

The jolt from her collar comes, but Trixis feels nothing from it. The pain she expects, does not occur. The hissing arch of magic attacks the Drow guard, and not herself. Her eyes widen, stunned by the way the male draws back from her, though she has done nothing. What she is certain, is a curse, falls from his lips, a snarl in the words that is easily recognized though she has never heard that word before.

The male is one she does not know; house slaves did not interact with the guard. She was merely for menial labor. But, his immediate reaction is to rebound from the shock, and reach for her again, as if she had attacked him on purpose. The facial expression he bears, tells her that he will not stop at simply beating her as her Master does. She might die, and from within her scattered thoughts, there is a command to-

 _'Run.'_

Trixis backed up, turning to try and flee. Somehow, by something that is nothing shy of a miracle, she manages to barely escape his reaching grasp. Her pitiful slave's garb, does not leave much to grab after. It is like a shapeless sack, of study but shabby cloth.

There is a shout from behind her, as she manages to run right past the doorway she had quietly passed before. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of three or more guards, whose attention had been drawn by the noises and the cursing. And, like some strange hunt, they give chase.

A human slave, was no match for trained guards of the house. She would be overtaken the moment she lost her advantage, but terror was spurring her onward.

However, a human slave, did know which way to flee, that would be difficult for the guards to gain access to.

The very quarters she had been attempting to avoid.

OoOoOo

She barely managed to push past the boundary into her Master's room, and huddle in the corner where he kept his reagents for the things that he did. Trixis does not stop to ponder how she knows they are his reagents, for she has never watched him work. Nor has she gone through his things. She simply _knows_ what they are. Yet the threats of the male guards is far too distracting for her to think about much else.

In the faint glow of the light, she draws her knees up to her chest and keeps silent.

They are all aware of what will happen when her Master returns. Even though she had not done anything purposeful to the guards.

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she whispers in a voice, far too soft for them to hear, words that have no meaning to her. Yet, that something in her echoes and quivers under the words. It pulses through her, a faint golden hue that she does not notice, sending a wave of calm through her, until she can move to uncurl herself from the corner. Until it ceases, and in her spirit, she feels the reassurance that tonight is not her last night to worship Tyr.

The human moved to her feet, and stood in the center of the free space of the room.

She would not be able to make it out anyway. So, she would wait out her fate, knowing that in the end, she would live.

OoOoOo

Bloodied, and shaking with pent up adrenaline from nearly being beaten to death, the human slowly crawled toward the door. A venom sings in her blood that has made her scream for him to cease. Something that brings her a large amount of shame. Her ears ring with his dark chuckles of amusement. The pain was nearly indescribable to her human mind, and helped dull some of the worst of it. With eyes, mostly swollen shut, she blindly pulled forward like a snake on its belly, with her good arm. The one that didn't feel as if it was broken in three places.

The lacerations must be dealt with, but she does not have the time for that just yet. Each second is an eternity of torment, as she cannot stop the throbbing aches. The sharp jarring sensation of broken bone scraping along the stone floor.

Her Master permits her to slowly drag her mostly broken body out of his sight.

A streak of crimson-red blood dries upon his cheek, it nearly matches the burning color of his eyes. Eyes that are strangely feverishly alight, though he has already extracted the payment for his supposed 'humiliation' from her hide. He had done something to her collar, Trixis had been correct. It was not her that had harmed the guard, but her collar. It was to keep others from his property.

Even though it was his idea and his plan, she was to suffer for it two-fold. Nay, ten-fold. From the way her body felt fractured into a thousand pieces, all of which screamed in agony.

He had told her as much. Laughing in her face as she shrieked from what he had done to her. Spells and curses of which she knew nothing of, were executed flawlessly upon her person.

However, she had survived. Which confounded her Master.

Because, he had been trying to kill her. A charm of luck, or not. She had caused a ruckus in the house, though unintentionally, which could have deposed her Master. Yet, she hadn't died, even under the onslaught of his most vicious and hideous arcane arsenal. The other human woman had not been able to handle even a fraction of his ire.

Far worse than being a simple bringer of good fortune, Trixis had caught his attention.

She had intrigued him, by not dying. A frail and pathetic human, had managed to continue to exist when other Drow had fallen to such attacks. He had been seeking to crush her, only to have her remain. However, his inspection of her tattered body, revealed nothing special about the female. Perhaps it was her iron will, if she possessed one. He had heard tales of humans that could, upon rare occasions, display amazing feats.

He touched the crimson streak, a small amount of still-wet blood transferred to his finger tip. The Drow brought it to his lips, a tongue darted out swiftly.

His eyes narrowed in a hint of ecstasy at the taste of salty metal that filled his sense of taste. And the nearly exotic scent of human that lingered in the traces of tears and sweat that had been left behind.

There was something in the traces of her presence, that prodded at the darkest recesses of his mind, and her Master would have many days to ponder on this night.

OoOoOo

It takes far longer, to come back to a semblance of normalcy.

Her body is, what could be accurately called, 'mangled'. Though she prays as fervently as before. When the guards are not present, and glaring at her.

Four guards had been slaughtered three days after chasing a house slave. The property of someone considered far above them in station within the house. A clear warning against breaking what her Master wanted to break himself, no doubt. Trixis was forced to clean up their remains. Broken arm and all. However, other slaves were ordered to help with the task.

In her state, she would take far too long.

Trixis notices that 'Twig' has been called upon far more often, and in the effort, it takes to help with the worst of his wounds... hers begin to mend as well. Not nearly as rapidly as they did prior, but she thinks that what he did to her in with his magic played a large part in it. 'Twig' warbled something she didn't understand, as her fingers gently traced the fissures in his exoskeleton from a more forceful huntress.

This time, 'Twig' favors his mouth to the point where she is forced to help him take in water. He knows when to knock the roughhewn cup out of her hand. That is the signal that he could take no more. She adjusts his head gently, attempting to make him more comfortable with the crap of cloth she called her blanket.

She smiles at 'Twig' for the low hiss of, what she hopes is approval, as the mantis-like creature stares up at the ceiling as he 'rests'. Truthfully, she has no idea what gender 'Twig' is, but she thinks he is male and with the way they treat males in Drow society, it would not surprise her to find that most slaves kept were male. Though she has no way of knowing if it is truth or mere speculation.

Weary, and aching still, she lays down near the Thri-kreen, ready to fall into the realm of sleep with open arms.

"Goodnight," she whispers softly, into the darkness.

Yet, she knows that 'Twig' has heard her and that she is still not here alone.

OoOoOo

The Matron sends her Master off to help a higher ranking Noble house, and for over a week her life is as nearly peaceful as it can be. She is nearly fully functional again, and that is a great relief to her. Trixis knows that slow and useful slaves do not last long. Drow society was not for the weak or faint of heart.

She brushes back a lock of her hair, as she finishes cleaning her Master's quarters. She still has time to help the Orc slave, with the same ruby-colored eyes that most of the Underdark creatures seem to possess. There was no dead object of a priestess tug-of-war in the room this time. Which was fortunate. Trixis rose to empty her bucket or water. She stopped briefly to rub at an ache in her back, and another few strands of hair fell over her eyes.

With a slight sigh of exasperation, she let down her hair to bind it up again. It made her chores much easier if she wasn't constantly battling hair in her face.

Minor annoyance averted, she reached down for the bucket once more. Just as a sinking feeling weighed in her stomach.

Her Master had returned. Far sooner than-

"Cursed hell-spawn," Trixis muttered against the pain, only to be jolted again.

It caused her to drop the bucket. The murky water splashed over the floor, along with her rag. With an internal groan at her own bought of misfortune, which she attributed to her Master's need to harm her, Trixis dropped back to her knees with the rag. She hurried to clean up the worst of the pooled liquid. Her hands rung out the rag, watching with a sense of mounting desperation as she felt as if she were running swiftly out of time.

Repeatedly, she wiped at the water, only to ring it out again. When that did not give her the results she felt were needed, she began to scrub the same areas that she had just cleaned, once more.

Her Master walked through the door, with something being carried by another slave. One that he took for errands, she had no doubt. The idea of leaving the house was both mystifying and unthinkable. She could not remember how long she had been here, only that it was all she knew. Therefore, to leave was nearly untenable, just yet. She had to stay.

A while longer.

Just a while longer. Some part of her knew it was so. She must not wander yet.

"Be gone, slave." Her Master commanded.

Trixis rose hurriedly, reaching for her bucket. If she was very fast, perhaps she could-

"Not you."

She froze. It had been well worth the attempt.

The other slave, some sort of goblin creature, from the look of it, did as it was told without delay. She thought that the goblin creature was the lucky one, and not her.

There was a sound of a heavy object landing on a hard surface, and it took all of her will power not to look at it from sheer instinct. After the last time, she has 'upset' him, Trixis had been content to walk on proverbial eggshells if it meant not going through that again.

He stalked closer, for that is what his movements could be called, like a predator going in for the kill. She tried to think of the scent of vellum and ink on the air, or the other task she had been ready to help with, but her mind became blank.

He stopped in front of her, and she saw, with mounting concern that they were completely alone. And, none would dare enter this room without his permission or if they were not above him in rank of the house.

She fidgeted, trying to still the influx of grim understanding at his continued silence in front of her. He had not called for a bath, but…

Master was undoing his belt.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 **Huzzah! Reviews!**

OoOoOo

The whisper of cloth, is perhaps, the most frightening sounds she's ever heard before.

Far beyond his cruel words, and vicious temper. Even more so than the beating that had nearly stolen her life. She knows what sorts of things come from moments such as these. Human hands clutch at the bucket's handle until her knuckles ache. Trixis drew a ragged breath, fighting against the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. This was, decidedly, out of the norm for her Master.

Perhaps, she had misunderstood what he was doing. Mayhap, he was simply in need of rest.

"Master, Do you-"

"I did not give you permission to speak," he said in voice that was calm and without its usual bite. It was all the more terrifying for it.

Blue eyes swing upward, for a moment, before snapping back toward the ground. She was in the lair of a beast, and it was just neigh on manageable that they were both aware of it.

She had a vague idea of what he wanted, she was not a fool. However, her body recoiled at the idea, knowing what the Drow were capable of when... mating. Like clawed animals or their favored spiders ripping one another apart-

The jolt made her knees buckle, and she nearly dropped the bucket once more. The dark water sloshed, threatening to tip over once more. However, by some act of mercy it remained as it was.

She could sense his crimson-eyes filled with malicious delight, upon her. There was something he craved from her. Trixis could not say why, nor how, but she already understood that Master was enjoying this far too much. The alignment to his Goddess was shining through like a darkened beacon, calling forth more destruction in its wake.

It briefly crossed her mind, to willingly comply and perhaps he would be slightly less cruel. It was instantly discarded.

No. Trixis had never needed to submit for this before. Her luck had held for so very long, and something in her warned that she _might_ become irreparably harmed or tainted if he were to force her to his bed. Whatever he had failed to break, or had been searching to destroy, just might cave under such an act. Or, something might be begotten from it. She had seen a half-drow only once. An Orcish half-drow at that. With marks carved into her skin, signifying her to be of the assassin's class, Trixis believed. But to have gotten that far, the female must have been truly formidable.

They were not treated kindly, the bastard children of slaves, barely above her station.

His outer robe went next, the rich fabric pooled where he stood, unheeded by the Drow Wizard.

"Master," she started again, her voice laden with her obvious discomfort and distrust of the encroaching situation. Taking a step away from him. It clearly was not what he had expected her to do.

"Are you, a mere slave, attempting to _deny_ your Master?"

Yes.

She let out a strangled noise as the collar gave a particularly powerful jolt. She was defying her Master, it made sense the pain would be far worse than just an errant thought or two. If caused bright flashes of color to dance behind her eyelids. As she fought to focus.

"A slave is not permitted to deny their Master," she responded in a labored whisper.

His crimson gaze appraised her. His hands moved to his shirt next, underneath would be bare skin, she knew. She had seen it before.

"Yet, still, you attempt to rile my anger."

"Never, Master." And that much was truth.

"Then you know to submit." The barest hints of a threat he need not voice was well understood between them.

Ye-.. No.

"I-" Her throat worked, clenching painfully for she knew no matter what she voiced, it would not matter in the slightest and already this much of a denial would burn at his pride. The females had taught their males well. How it was to have dominance and control over something beneath you.

She senses the barrier around the room, feeling it ship with his will. His concentration, is a thing to be frightened of. Though he looks at her, it does not stop him from preforming powerful magic. If she had an escape, Trixis instinctually knows it is barred from her now. Her head moves slightly, her gaze sliding toward where the strongest point of the barrier must have been, though she could not see it.

"You _can_ sense it," her master commented idly with a hint of suspicion and praise equally intermixed. "Who are you? What are you?"

His question is a surprise, one that she is not prepared for.

"You own me Master," the humans says quietly. "I am the same as when you were gifted me."

A nearly fluorescently white brow arched in faint amusement. What she spoke was the truth. He had been gifted the human, as a slave, and as a token of 'generosity' of the house he was to join. However, nothing in the under dark came without a price. What he had done to earn such a favor was likely something Trixis never wanted to know. Should never see the light of the above world.

Trixis was a human female. There was nothing special about her from the Drow perspective in the slightest. In fact, by their standards she would have been remarkably plain compared the to the urethral beauty of his kind. Not worth his time nor attention. She had kept that status for years now. However, it was on the precipice of being forcibly stripped from her.

"Yet, you _live_."

Confusion echoed through her thoughts at his statement. She fidgeted uncomfortably. Not fully comprehending what was meant by that statement. He took a step forward. Trixis mirrored by taking another step backward.

It was an imprudent move, for he grinned.

This was clearly a path that lead to misery. Trixis clutched at the bucket once more, trying to keep it between her and her Master. The Drow male let loose a low chuckle.

"You think a _bucket_ will keep me from what is my right? What is _owned_ by me?"

Without thinking, her mouth uttered words she never would have dared speak before.

"It is all I have, to fend you off, Master."

He stared at her a moment, and Trixis's gaze slowly moved upward, until she could make out the tip of his chin. She had no wish to meet his gaze, nor see the fury that would be burning in those crimson orbs.

Perhaps it was the ridiculousness of the statement, or the face that it was only blunt honesty, but it caused Master Filinid to laugh. Laugh, as one might pause to guffaw at a humorous sight or the well told story of a particularly talented bard.

Something shifted, and she took another step away from him.

"Therefore," her master commented in a voice that spoke a breadth of sin and wickedness. "You are daring to deny your Master? You admit this?"

The human nodded slowly.

"With a Bucket, _and_ a rag, Master." She stated with a valiant attempt to keep her voice from trembling.

No one would dare defy him, and here she was, attempting to stave him off for a moment. A foolish moment that would accomplish absolutely nothing. Her master was exceedingly powerful, when compared to her.

"You think yourself my equal?" He hissed out, his humor lost at her continued slight refusal.

Trixis shook her head, her hair moved with the motion.

"You and I would _never_ be on equal footing, Master."

Something in her tugged, filling her with the understanding that her words were not incorrect. Though her Master would likely interpret her meaning differently. His head tilted slightly, as if he were pondering what she hoped to accomplish. They both knew she hadn't a position to stand upon. He could easily choose to give her over to the guards, if it were his whim.

That would ... that would be something that even her worst nightmares dared not broach.

He drew up to his full height, slightly taller than herself, but only by a finger width. Possibly two.

"I command you to submit." He said with a menace that caused her to shudder. The dark intent in the words could not be mistaken. It would not be something that Trixis would enjoy.

It pulses within her, and her lips quiver. Blue eyes move upward, looking up at him for the first time since she'd found her voice. Blue clashed with vivid red, terrified eyes warred with ones that knew they would get what they wanted. Surety held the potential to be a terrible thing.

"Master-"

"Your hesitance is highly displeasing."

She wasn't entirely certain why he had expected or wanted anything different. What did her hesitancy matter to him?

Well, then she was about to make him very unhappy. She glanced to the side, and kept her mock-shield between them. Trixis logically knew that he could simply knock the bucket out of her hand and drag her to his bed. Kicking and screaming. Which was high on her list of fall back plans at the moment. Or, there was always the age-old standby of trying to wheedle her way out.

A sinking feeling warned her that it might not work. She could sense a lingering evil about him, perhaps he had been with the priestess recently. The hint of barely constrained cruelty in his gaze was enough to add fuel to that thought. However, it was not as if she had a list of options at her disposal.

"Master, this slave begs you to release her, I... I will find you a suitable bed mate."

And, just as she had feared, he moved forward. Trixis dropped the bucket, hardly noticing the water that splashed over the floor. Nor did her Master, as she darted to the other side of the room. She could not leave. Her collar burned at her throat, a heavy sensation but not filled with the painful arcane jolting. She refused to think, allowing instinct to keep her moving. And, like a twisted child's game, he chased after her.

It wasn't as if she could leave, at any rate.

Her feet moved nimbly as she rounded his bed, with her Master hot on her heels. He was faster, and over took her rather easily. Trixis squirmed, attempting to get away, but his hand was around her arm, yanking her back toward him. A Drow never did anything without purpose or that did not benefit them.

"Master," she gasped, trying to dissuade him, without fighting over much, lest he attempt to truly end her life. As he had of the last human woman. Tears sprung in her eyes, as she fought against the violation that his tongue licking at the soft skin of her neck, followed by the sharp pain of a quick bite at the same area. She'd never been touched this way and it was frightening and intrusive.

"The Priestess would not take kindly to sharing you," the human attempted to reason desperately. As his hands moved down to where her thin garb was tied roughly, to keep from coming open on the top.

The sense that this had to stop fills her thoughts, for her Master pays no heed to her words. His hand circles around her wrists, they hold her painfully tight, and she knows she will bruise. As the other hand sees fit to strip her of the flimsy barriers between them. The richness of his spider silk was a far cry different from the coarse blend of burlap that grated against her skin daily.

She is somehow slight, compared to her Master. He has seen battle and trained in ways that she does not know, nor understand. While Trixis was a house slave, used only to menial chores that roughened her hands, and the meager rations she was given did nothing to make her build any sort of muscle that would be noticeable. It was her disadvantage, that she also did not know the first thing about fighting one off.

Her eyes widened, as his fingers touched places upon her person that had been, until this night, kept protected by her uncanny luck. Which appeared to have turned against her. His teeth nipped at skin, causing her to let out a noise or two of distress. His red eyes filled her vision, as he turned her around, refusing to break his hold on her for very long. The moment he had, Trixis tried to scramble away, but was unable to get far at all.

His hands grabbed at her legs, and she made a vain attempt to kick at him, but he skillfully avoided the blind attempt. Pulling her closer, her legs parted at his grip moved to her thighs. She tried to push at his chest, to keep him away. However, it garnered her nothing. She knew that she could not stop him.

 _'Tyr, most wondrous God, help_!' She prayed, against the grating panic.

Her Master stilled. As if her silent plea had been answered, there was a disturbance at his wards that caused him to pause. However, he kept her pinned beneath him. His shockingly white hair, tickled at her cheek as she laid there attempting not to draw attention to herself again.

"Master Yauntykur," A gruff voice called from the other side.

Her Master bit back a curse. Trixis could only stare as magic gathered about him, some spell that flickered through her thoughts as one of those he had used on her. Not so long ago. She shuddered involuntarily. His crimson gaze cut across the small amount of space that separated them. He seemed even more fierce with the expression of frustrated lust on his face.

Trixis could hardly breathe.

"Master, there is a problem with one of the mages. The Ilharn requires you to deal with the-"

Her Master ceased listening, as his ragged breathing calmed as well, Drow eyes clashed with human.

"You truly are," he said in a gruff and begrudging manner, "an extremely fortunate human."

She trembled under his hold, as he leaned down. His lips caressed the outer shell of her ear, rounded where his was pointed, before he bit it harshly. She winced and tried to move away from the horrid sensation.

"But it will not save you from me again." Her Master warned her lowly.

Trixis very nearly believed him.

OoOoOo

Out.

She had to get out.

After fixing what she could of her clothing, she'd searched high and low, for a way out.

However, she could not leave his quarters. She had tried, but the door would not open. He'd redressed as she'd sat curling her legs up toward her chest, and pulling a sheet over to cover her state of undress. For now, she was still unharmed, but she could not say how much longer that would last. Not long, if the smoldering glance he'd given her was anything to go by.

How could she escape him? She'd never make it out alive, even if she got out of the room. There was the rest of the house, and outside of this prison was the city. Beyond that, was the Under Dark itself. She moved to her knees, praying to Tyr with all her might. Hoping against hope that even though she could not see a way out, that she might yet be allowed to remain in some aspects, unscathed.

OoOoOo

Her Master is, blessedly-

"Tyr's might!" She hissed quietly, against the pain. Damned collar!

He was gone for far longer than she anticipated, and she begins to wonder what might have occurred to keep him so long, even though she is in no rush to have him back. She senses the shift in the barrier, and worried that her thoughts had summoned him somehow. Trixis drew away from the door, hoping to hide in the shadow and slip out. Perhaps she might get slain by the guard instead of forced into the position of bed slave.

Drow went through those at an alarming rate.

The door slid open easily, and she did not recognize the male that came forward as she held her breath, human eyes barely able to keep from staring at the interloper. That was followed by another. Two males? In her Master's quarters? A keen sense of dread filled her. Trixis slowly moved one foot in front of the other. She slid it across the floor, so as not to make a sound. The Drow males made their way toward her Master's reagents, as she took the chance to try an bolt.

It was like being hit in the face with a brick wall. She let out a soft cry, as the barrier prevented her from leaving. She shook her head, feeling as if she had just been slightly bludgeoned, which from a magical perspective, she had.

Unforgiving eyes moved toward her prone form.

"He did warn us she would try to run."

The second male snorted in amusement.

"What a worthless human," he said as if speaking about some animal at the market. Contempt laden in his words.

Said human heard every word, and slowly moved to a sitting position. A sense of despair filled her thoughts.

She truly wasn't getting out of here. It would only be a matter of time before her Master returned, and she still had no way to stop him from taking what he wanted. Which was her. Though she had no idea what possessed him to want her, when he had elven women of great beauty all about him and the Priestess of the house had brought him to her bed.

Why in the hels, would he want a human slave? She rubbed a hand over her arm, stifling the urge to weep. She would not break to him. She would pray to her God, a litany that spun from the depths of her heart and soul. One of thanks for the times he had saved her already, even if Tyr could not spare her again, she was grateful for him. The sense of calmness settled over her like a blanket. There was nothing she could do to prevent his desires, but she could do her best to remain whole afterward.

But she earnestly hoped it would not come to that. Perhaps whatever strange need had gripped him, would be gone by the time he returned?

OoOoOo

She fell into a sleep that only the frightened and exhausted know. One that robs of any true rest, but it enough that they were not easily roused. She had managed to stay awake for over a day. A full passage of time in the Under dark, where she had nothing to occupy her thoughts but the sense of impending doom that would not leave. The Darfellan had come by, attempting to free her once, but she had shooed him away.

Master would kill him for such a thing, if he managed it. Which she doubted that he could.

Trixis prayed. She prayed and kept her thoughts toward her God and not toward the follower of Lolth that would eventually come for her. The thought of taking her own life skirted on the edge, but that _something_ in her was growing. It wasn't time yet, too soon and Trixis knew that everything would be for naught. Though she did not understand what would be lost, or what her part in it was. Only that it needed more time.

Even at the cost of-

But it could taint her, and break a part of her that would never be able to move past this, and that concerned her greatly.

She went around and round her thoughts, until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She fell asleep praying that Tyr's will and grace guide her.

She awoke to the fiendish crimson eyes of her Master, so close that she could count his lashes. She drew a shuddering breath, and turned her head away. His nearly fluorescently white hair tickled across her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: HEAVILY IMPLIED NON CON_**

 **Thanks to all those that read this. And, for those that have reviewed it.**

OoOoOo

Her Master doesn't utter a word. His crimson gaze remains on her, Trixis can feel it akin to a physical weight or chain against her heart. It coincides with the clenching in her chest that signals the hints of panic that threatens to make her break the strange moment that holds them both in a lull. She fears what will come next, and at the same breath she wonders why he hasn't already taken what he wanted from her.

He was interrupted, yester eve, but now there was no such obstacle in his path. She was, quite literally, laid before him. However, she was not at his mercy. Drow did not show mercy to anyone. She highly doubted they were capable of it, if it did not benefit them greatly. And, even then, the concept of a Drow bestowing mercy on any living creature was so out of place that her mind could not fathom such an occurrence.

His hand moves to her hair, and she barely winces as he tightens a fist in the locks.

The silence stretches, nearly as painful as the tension that keeps her from moving. Part of her warned to stay still, and another wished to avoid him at all costs. Even though he had easily overtaken her once already. Trixis knew it was a futile effort, no matter the path she took. He was her Master, and he would have what he wanted. By whatever means necessary.

She felt the vicious tug at her scalp, her eyes moved toward his face slowly. The human knew that precious little could save her now. She thought a silent prayer to Tyr, asking to be able to survive this. If she could ask for only one thing, it would be that. A wave of gentle comfort crashed over her, though Trixis still knew a great deal of fear.

What he truly wanted from her, she held the sinking feeling, he would seek to take greedily now.

She has expected gloating, and pain, but instead of a leering smirk, his face appears impassive. As it did when he was in front of the other Drow. Weakness is something that must be stamped out, lest a male be sacrificed to the Demon Goddess Lolth. Yet, despite the nearly unforgiving hold he has upon her, his crimson gaze only narrows on her briefly.

"Humans are so very... _plain._ " Her Master says with a hint of disgust in his voice.

It is true, she is not anything like the dangerous and deadly beauties of the female Drow ranks. She feels his hand clench, still buried in her hair. For a fleeting moment, she thinks about informing him that the slaver had called her 'ugly' more than once. Though, in sincerity, she has no idea what human standards consider her. If she is fair, average, ugly, plain, or pretty.

It makes very little difference to her. The only being she seeks favor with, is her God Tyr. A dead God. One that had been replaced in the Pantheon by another. How she knows those facts, are beyond her. She simply does. Her silent prayers and devotion exist for him alone. A feeling flitters across her skin, like the gentlest of innocent touches.

It most certainly, had not come from her Master.

Human eyes, refuse to really focus on the male dark elf holding her down. She says nothing to his statement, for there is nothing to be said. She likely is exceedingly plain to him.

Her lips twitch when his other hand comes to her face, a single finger traced a path down the skin.

" _Weak-willed,_ and _Pathetic_." His words are an insult and lofted about as if she ought to be ashamed.

She is not ashamed to be human. Though, to a Drow she is less than excrement.

There is a slight shift of his weight above her, and Trixis blinks, feeling a world away from her Master as he tilts his head to examine her features once more. Her lips part, and she moves her head toward the finger that had been tracing a path down her skin. He does not tug at her hair, but allows her to move, most likely due to curiosity than anything else.

Her gaze moves to his, sinking in the cruel crimson depths, a sense of detachment floated about her like a shield.

"Yet, I still live, Master." She said quietly, throwing his words back in his face with a neutrality that nearly waxed poetic.

Silence met her statement for a fraction of a heartbeat, before intrigued rage sufficed his features.

"And _foolish_ ," He hissed, as if to list another fault of all humanity against her ear.

She would pay dearly. The human was already aware of the price.

He would have her body, by his will and through force, but everything else of her belonged to Tyr.

OoOoOo

She hides behind the Darfellan's Master, by assisting him with his tasks. It only works for two days, before her Master finds her once more. A sadistic look of satisfaction about him as he motioned for her to follow.

The sharp jolt of the collar reminds her that he can harm her much more severely. She has never felt more like a prisoner, or a caged toy than she does now.

Scratches on her skin. The lingering scent of him all about her. The sounds in her ears that she couldn't quite drown out. Bruises on flesh, in places that were thankfully covered by her meager clothing.

She ached and itched at the same time. She felt the residual crawling feeling of taint within her and on her. Trixis licked her dry lips, blue eyes staring at the communal slave room, when the others slumbered in dreams she had no wish to enter. Something warned her deep within that dreams would only bring images of his ruby-red gaze. The eyes that watched her. The ones that locked with her gaze as she struggled against him in vain.

His harsh and deep voice commanding her, in his native tongue, to submit and to look at him. To watch as she was taken by her Master, on a bed far finer than anything she'd ever lain upon. Marked in a new way as his property.

The odd moment, beneath the heavy touches, filled with conquering intent and roughness, where he demanded she tell him her name.

She had remained mute. Holding onto that bit of information like a light in the darkness. His strength made her feel helpless, as his hands covered over hers. Wrists held tightly, and body opened for his pleasure, she refused to give him anything else. A small flicker of something flashed inside of her, soothing away the sense of violation that penetrated to the bone.

Animalistic noises, gasps of pleasure from one and distress from the other, filled the room. Trixis shuddered. She could still feel an essence of him inside of her. The flash of pain as teeth bit into the tender flesh of her shoulder.

Her Master had then, finally, permitted her to leave.

The human moved away from the sleeping quarters of the Wizard Master, turning to gain a ragged breath. Her knees buckled and she hit the ground, bowing her head.

' _Thank you, Great Tyr'_ , she thought in a dazed sense of confusion, anger, and shame. ' _Thank you for letting me live.'_

She is earnestly grateful to be alive, but it seems shadowed now. Though, perhaps it was the influence of the evil taint of her Master, that made her wonder why it had happened to her at all.

OoOoOo

 _Something in her grows stronger, despite the exhaustion and taint of Lolth from her Master._

She tries to ignore the way her Master refuses to allow her rest. He forces her to clean his quarters two or more times daily now. His crimson gaze, shadowed by some hidden thought she was not privy to, followed her about the room. His Arcane talent has been called upon by the house more than once since he had forced his attentions upon her. Trixis keeps her distance from him, so as not to make matters worse.

The bed slaves, in the under dark, do not live long. Neither do the slaves, but as a menial laborer she stood a better chance of survival. Soon, it is coming on the still under dark air. The human could sense the hints of change that wove themselves about the cracks and crevices of the house. Another male, one of the Matron's personal guard has graced the bed of the eldest daughter.

His presence usurped that of her Master.

An omen of ill fortune. One that has her Master returning to the House much earlier than was usual.

Trixis frets that her Master will use it as an excuse to punish her. However, he does not come closer to her, as she goes about her chores. Her posture stiff and eyes ever-forward. Her service to him is beyond reproach, for the moment. He was far too preoccupied with scheming to gain favor with the Priestess, no doubt. He has had a taste of the power that comes from the Priestess, and Trixis knew he would not give it up.

No Drow ever did. Even if it was a blade-thin edge he walked. He seemed to manage quite well, much to her dismay-

Her shoulder's twitched at the jolt from the collar.

She prayers that her Master will turn his lustful gaze toward someone else.

OoOoOo

Death had visited the House that Trixis had known for years.

She had worried that it would be her own, however it was not. It had come, unexpectedly, like a thief in the night for the head of the house.

The hilt of a sword is buried deeply into the chest of the Matron. Its handle gleamed wickedly, as if laughing in a mockery of the perfect execution of Drow hierarchy. The Priestess stands tall and amused as the blood of her mother runs in thin lines, like a spider's web, down her arms. A hideous laugh of triumph filters through the halls, and Trixis stills at the sight of the Priestess. Her goading and malicious joy is nothing short of insanity.

She has served Lolth well, the human cannot help but believe. The slaves know that it could mean the end of the New Matron's sisters and her brothers, if they had ever displeased her. Trixis wants to slink away from it all. To let the House Assassins, do their jobs and without interference, but her luck was not as it once was.

He had been waiting for her, and that thought makes her blood run cold.

Master Filinid grabs Trixis by her arm, and drags her -uncaring of the multiple sets of eyes that gaze upon them with varying looks of interest and pity- to his room. She digs her feet into the stone floor, offering as much resistance as she dared, trying to dissuade him from accosting her a second time. There is a lump of sadness and strife clawing at her throat, as he pushes her inside the room, his features clouded with a twisted form of lust that makes her tremble.

Fear and disgust war for a place amongst the mounting horror.

Not again.

He pulls at her hair, letting it tumble behind her back, freeing it from the haphazard way she'd tied it to keep it out of her face. He is close. Far too close and all around her. Wicked eyes, hands, and teeth. She refuses to cry, as her Master buries his nose in the nape of her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. Its intimate, in its nature, and causes her to lash out at him, trying to buck him off before he can force that part of him inside of her once more.

He commands her to look at him, and she obeys, hoping that it will be enough to satisfy him without the need for more.

It is not.

He takes what he wants from her, and when it is done, she stumbles away from him as fast as her weakened legs allow her.

Not three hours later, the new Matron summons her Master. Who goes with a renewed sense of energy in his steps. The house mages genuflect as he passes. They believe he will be the next Patron, since the previous one was not favored by the Priestess. In the slightest. They murmur that he must be Lolth blessed indeed.

OoOoOo

Trixis scrubs her skin until it bleeds, all alone in the kitchen, where she was afforded the chance to boil water until it is scalding. Something tugs at her, healing the damage that can be seen, and she prays that she may hold it all together. That Tyr has not left her alone in the clutches of a Master she can never escape. One that has an interest in her that leaves her afraid to slow down, nor sleep, lest he be upon her in an instant.

'Twig' finds her, with a steaming cloth and splotches of red on her that do not last longer than a few heartbeats. His large eyes make no judgements, and his lack of words are a comfort to the human. He moves around her, circling to survey the worst of the damage. She allow sit, sensing deep within her heart, that 'Twig' means her no harm whatsoever.

She clutches the now cool rag in her hand, looking away to allow the worst of the embarrassment and impotent fury to pass. She had to trust. Something within her was pleading with her to trust it just a while longer.

Dear Tyr, just a little longer.

She was unsure if she could continue under the onslaught of evil. She holds fast to the litany of words that ring in her head that she does not fully comprehend. The human finds a touch of solace in her prayers. In the moments of pure space away from his bed.

"It's alright," the human said to the Thri-kreen softly. "Soon, he won't be able to touch me."

There is a sense of conviction and certainty in her tone, that makes the situation just a touch bearable. The warmth of the Under Dark does not keep a chill from racing up her spine. She will not frighten 'Twig'. Every slave had their trials and burdens to live through. She had seen what they had done to him, it was not an intrusion that he sees her like this. They had formed a bond due to the sadistic nature of the Drow.

But they were alive, despite all of that.

So far, she had that on her side, at the very least.

OoOoOo

The human was not privy to the workings of the Matron's mind. Drow did not share willingly, when they wanted something, it was theirs already. Whether the object or person in question wanted them or not.

Her Master was an extremely talented Wizard, an excellent specimen in many ways. Therefore, a highly-prized breeding partner to the new house Matron Luatyna. She was a Drowess of large ambitions, wanting to push her house to the highest tears of nobility, even if she had to carve out their place with the bones of her enemies.

She felt that Wizard Yauntykur was the answer to such a bloodthirsty path. She had witnessed what he could do, and would not have been surprised if he could have been a male afforded the highest-ranking station possible, of temple guard, had his affinity lain elsewhere.

However, he was of her house now. Hers and she would make certain that no female took him from her until she held all she wanted at the tips of her fingers.

The Head Assassin would earn their keep soon. Less than a fortnight from now, when the blood of her siblings would have to be spilt to ensure her total rule over the house. Her youngest sister would make a most aggregable sacrifice to Lolth. Which would grant her a blessing from the Spider Queen.

She would dispose of the common born Wizard, after she had what she wanted… and then more.

OoOoOo

 _Down._ The voice commands him, and a Paladin stands tall amongst the outcropping of rock and scraggly weeds. His armor shines like a beacon, proudly heralding his class.

A symbol, from a maimed God, painted proudly on his shield. His sword sharpened until he could spear through a monster with ease. Hands, that had worked hard since he took his holy vows, tightened in anticipation.

 _Go down into the Under Dark._

The wizened features reflect steely determination as dark brown eyes stare into entrance that only merchants used. There was not a moment's hesitation as he took one step. Then another. Marching every onward to where only the voice inside him commanded.

It had been so long, since he had held this much purpose.

His head held high, the Paladin knew he was entering upon the footfalls of something far beyond his understanding.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: Evil Aligned Drow, and mentions of non con, ect._**

 **Thanks to all those that read and review! Especially you Silt, every chapter, and I do play Neverwinter MMORPG as well XD**

OoOoOo

Humans were not meant for the Under dark. They lacked the proper vision to see in the belly of the Earth. A belly that held creatures which skittered in the inky-black darkness that hid the monstrosities. Their leering teeth gleamed wickedly, though a human could not see it. The echoes of hisses, groans, and shrieks of creatures could be heard at every turn. Pockets of gas burst forward from deeper layers of the earth, causing painful burns or occasionally death for an adventurer that did not pay attention.

However, for the Paladin, no darkness could ever stop him from his sacred oath. The one he had sworn when Tyr still lived as a God. The one that guided him now. Further into the unknown and unseen landscape, he went. The only light, was that of the holy aura he produced. Enough to see the most vicious and dangers traps lurking closest to him.

The silence was as unnerving as the evil that radiated from all around him in the distance.

Yet, the Paladin would not be deterred. His quest was of the utmost importance, and only death would prevent him from seeing it to its end. No matter the consequences.

He came from the East, carefully moving around or confronting the every present dangers that appeared with each turn and step closer to where the tainted cites of the Under dark lay. Where Ilithids, dark dwarves, and Drow ruled with iron fists soaked in blood. Where demons often found a place to frolic, and the unimaginable things that Paladins fought against for the safety of others, teemed like fish in a river.

It had taken him years to reach this point, and there was a tension about him, one lone Paladin against the evils of the Under Dark. He would not falter. He would not fail.

Even if he was alone.

He blinked, dark eyes, roaming over the parts of the landscape, waiting and watching for the smile or Drow teeth right before they attacked. Or the dripping venom of the spiders they rode. The blistering heat made his armor uncomfortable. Perspiration slicked his black hair, at his temples. His shirt clung to his skin, making him feel the heat all the more.

A Paladin of Tyr would always-

He felt the shift. As if something more akin to him, and less like the evil creatures were scattered about everywhere.

It is the light in the to the South that first draws his attention. A long line of lights, spaced fairly regularly, that moved down the side of the cavern wall, he surmised.

From the North, another soft glow slowly traipsed forward. Followed by another, then three more.

Seven from the West, moving in a slow procession in the darkness.

Liu Wei blinked, his dark eyes widened slightly, as he felt the familiar tug of holiness toward the soft glowing figures in the distance. His wizened features held a gentle, nearly euphoric expression. This is what he had prayed for, and had secretly wanted to occur before he rushed to meet the God of Justice in the ever after, even if it meant non-existence.

To charge forward with his holy brothers and sisters, once more.

They were his brethren. His kith. His kindred.

The other living paladins of Tyr, were moving toward a singular point.

 _Ever onward._ The voice urged, and his body shook off the sensation of fatigue. They would converge at the end of his path. He somehow knew it. They were being called.

All of them.

He knew naught why, but his heart and soul sang in sweet relief. There had been moments of doubt, in the deepest recesses of his mind, where he had entertained the notion that he might be the only one left. Yet, seeing the warming glow of the light amongst a never ending darkness, made him shiver in a long awaited anticipation. One that made his blood alight with the possibility of bringing Tyr's justice upon this chaotic under world.

A dull striking noise, of stone hitting stone, caused him to turn his attention away, his gaze moved from the glowing lights, to see a figure descending down the very path he had started upon a candle mark ago.

He could sense the other instantly. A being devoid of evil or dark intent. The same glow about them as Lui Wei himself possessed. Others had gone to the God Torm, but Liu Wei was a loyal paladin. One that trusted the deceased God implicitly. The light drew closer, and he stood tall and proud in the presence of the other Paladin. The older paladin was what remained of the Order of Grimjaws. The most elite of Tyr's holy order of Paladins.

A half-elf drew closer.

"May the Just God ever watch over you," Liu Wei called out, when he could make out the other.

"The Even-handed, preserves us all."

The melodic reply was as joyous as the older Paladin had felt but moments before. The Grimjaws Paladin watched as the Merciful Sword Paladin nodded in mutual respect, before tipping his head.

"Come brother," The elder said with purpose. "Tyr calls us forward."

The half-elf nodded briefly, and together they continued toward the center.

The orders of Tyr would be made whole once more. He could sense it.

OoOoOo

The Matron is much colder -and Trixis had not thought it possible-, crueler, and cunning than her former mother. The human knows to help 'Twig' hide and her Darfellan friend becomes scarce as his master forces him to run errands. Those that owned slaves in the house did not wish to lose them to a new Matron's insane whims.

Though it grated on her nerves, and haunted her nightmares, Master Filinid kept her in his quarters. Where she had been unable to venture out beyond the wards of the room for two days. It is a blessing, to be free of him and his touches for so long. Though, without her normal chores to occupy her, the days seem endless. She choses, to pray. The words tumble off of her lips in a quiet plea. There is a meaning in them, she understands that much, but not what that meaning is.

There is just an overwhelming need to pray.

Her world, from early morn to late evening are spent behind the Arcane barrier she cannot touch. Calling out in the darkness to her God. A God that does not live. One that still holds all her faith. The human's knees are bruised, but those small wounds heal even as the stone floor bites into the tender flesh. Each minute brings her closer to some unknown precipice that she wants to fling herself into, head-long, yet she knows it is not time yet.

Not yet.

She is waiting for something, though Trixis cannot put name to what it is. She simply waits. Some part of her needs her to wait and hold on just a little bit longer.

Finally, something in her tugs sharply, and she moves to a sitting position. Her prayers cease for several moments. She senses that the time is no longer safe.

Her gaze, catches the barest hints of a moving shadow, and Trixis looks up. A Drow male watches her. His face was partially obscured by a black cloth. A mask. The leather and metal that adorns him lacks the ornate aspect of some of the guards.

 _An Assassin._

Her thoughts clamored around that bit of information, as she stared into his slate-gray eyes. The color of stone, and not blood. It startles her, slightly, for they are not as common as the crimson gazes filled with malicious hate toward everything that did not directly deal with Lolth or her favorites.

They watch each other silently for a moment. Trixis knew that the head of the assassins of the house had been rather busy these past few days. Sacrifices had been made and lesser connections had mysteriously suffered suspicious deaths. Not uncommon amongst their kind at all. The human drew back, slowly moving her feet but keeping eye contact with the male.

She honestly should not stare at him so, but he was an assassin and those that did not watch assassins did tend to end up on the sharp end of a blade.

He titled his head, apprising her without a comment. She could make out a tear in the greaves of leather he had on. A splotch of dark blood made her still.

"You are hurt," she said quietly, flickering her gaze toward his injury and back to the stone-gray eyes that seemed less terrifying. It was but an illusion. All Drow were deadly, no matter the color of their eyes.

He made no acknowledgement of her words, for he turned his attention toward the barrier that denied him access to her Master's room. Had Master fallen out of favor so quickly? Did the Matron already tire of him?

A scantily clad Drowess, rounded behind the male. Her shockingly bright hair, hung past her shoulders, and Trixis could see that a large portion of her body was no longer left to the imagination. Though symbols of the Spider Queen were tattooed upon her skin, along with that of the house she served. The female's armor was much more expensive and looked as if it had been crafted by a master. The band of a magical circlet was wrapped around her head. A gem that likely cost more than Trixis, several times over, glinted from the faint glow of the hall lights.

"What are you waiting for?" The female asked with distain and annoyance dripping from her words.

The Male stilled, inclining his head, his tone held the utmost respect lest he anger the female. She would kill him, Trixis knew, if she felt offended.

"I have not seen a human before, so close." The male uttered, keeping his gaze properly averted.

Said human did the same, knowing that the path they tread was extremely thin whenever the females were around. The hall reverberated with the sound of her striking the male. Though he had done nothing to incur her wrath, and despite herself, Trixis felt agitated.

"Get back to your task, you fool! And be quick about it."

The Drowess hissed the order, a clear warning that punishment would be taken from his hide next. The male recovered quickly, making a noise of acknowledgement. She would still punish him later, Trixis knew. They enjoyed torturing the males, as much as the males enjoyed using their position of power over the slaves.

"As you command, Mistress Assassin," The male replied in a dutiful tone, not even appearing upset for being knocked about by the Drowess.

Trixis felt fear pool tightly in her stomach, the concern drifted in her thoughts, that she could not fight her Master off. Granted he was a high ranking wizard, and she was but a mere human. However, Trixis was wise enough to not like her chances of going up against a Drow that made a living off of killing with stealth.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, when his Gary gaze landed on her once more.

OoOoOo

The Assassins are brutally efficient. By the night's end, those that had ever spoken out against Matron Luatyna are disposed of in the worst and slowest way possible. It maximized the amount of glory brought upon the house. Lolth enjoyed the savage chaos in all forms. It also served the dual purpose of warning those that might challenge the power of the Matron. It was unlikely, but not unheard of.

It would bean that soon Luatyna would start seeking to have her own children. The Drow were very fertile when compared to their above world counterparts. It meant that they could have many children, and there were rules to even that. Trixis had heard about it a time or two when slaves were purchased from other houses, or when those that came to this house were brought in from elsewhere.

Trixis attempts to keep herself calm, and not worry about the shadows that might conceal one or more assassins. Darkness follows the Drow, seemingly it does their bidding as they require it. A handy thing for those that can see without light. She is not among them. By the end of the day, the halls are ready to be scrubbed free of... _whoever_ had once been there.

Still, her Master does not come to her room. She reluctantly begins to entertain the idea that now, her Master will be content with the Matron -or the Drow equivalent which meant mostly mur-

She twitched and yelped at the shock of the collar. She had been so intent in her devotionals, that she'd not suffered a jolt from it for days. That too had been a pleasant reprieve. She knew however, that like all respites, eventually it would come to an end. The human simply did not know when. Or how. Not that she would be able to do much about it.

Her Master was the Matron's most called upon bedmate, there was a chance that he would continue to have that station as long as Luatyna wished it. Surely, when he had the Matron to warm him -or at least, not eat him-

She winced.

The favor of the house Matron would afford him some more importance and respect, as much as Luatyna wished it, granted. It also meant he would have to continue to serve her in any capacity the Drowess wished. The wishes of a Drow were something that Trixis had learned to be more than wary of. Her master was the most mercurial of the lot. He had never paid her any true attention until this year, and now so much had been changed. She actually missed the days of just being beaten for his entertainment.

 _Trust._ The voice whispers though her, and she bites her lip.

Human eyes, far gentler than any dark elf, close as she take a breath.

She could trust. She could wait.

OoOoOo

Liu Wei watched the soft glow of the individual paladins turn into a veritable small sun of brightness in the Under dark. Creatures still. The clacking mandibles of spiders, still and the wretched evil creatures with luminescent eyes shrink back in pain and fear. It is such a sight, that the very bowels of the world seem to still in awe at the sight.

The head Paladin, with dark and intelligent eyes, feels a swell of hope.

He had believed himself alone. But one Paladin had become a dozen. A dozen had soon turned into a hundred. The hundred Paladins, had gathered waiting in the darkness as their ranks increased. It was as if they had all been guided to this place. They had been called at different times, different places, and prompted to head toward this location when they would arrive on the same day.

However, despite his faith in Tyr, though no longer a living God, and in the position of the highest Paladin of the order of Grimjaws, could not help but be moved by the waves of hundreds of Paladins that filed in, lines of soft glows moving down the same paths their brethren had trod just hours before. His holy symbol shined underneath the combined light.

They were an army.

The voice and arm of a dead God. On a mission into the Under dark. He clenched his jaw briefly, wondering what could have caused the echoed words of the memory of his God to ring through his soul. Through all their souls. However, their vows have been sworn and they will not be deterred.

A holy army was descending upon the Under Dark. What had been inky-blackness, blinding them from the dangers lurking about, seemed to fall away.

Together, they were as bright as the mid day sun.

 _Onward._

Liu Wei lifted his hand. Thousands of eyes turned toward his raised gauntlet. He moved his arm, pointing toward the direction where the prompting told them to venture.

"In Tyr's Name!" He shouted, and the cavern roared with the answering cries of his brothers and sisters in faith.

The Procession of Justice had been called, once more.

OoOoOo

Blue eyes open suddenly.

Trixis stills, feeling as if something of a great magnitude has just occurred, but she cannot describe what made her feel this way. Her head turns, and she stares at the opening of the door, as if she can stare through it somehow. Past the hallway and the wall on the other side.

That way.

She did not know what it was, or how it involved her, but she could sense that it was coming.

Elation filled her. A jubilation that caused the human to do something she had never done since her enslavement. Laughter, a sound she barely recognized, was coming from her. Honest and sweet laughter.

She brought her hands together by her face, covering her lips as the sound bubbled forth, as the surreal feeling of _hope_ and _happiness_ filled her. Her lips stretched into a smile and she allowed herself to bask in that moment.

It dies as quickly as it had come, however, for her mind registers that her Master has returned.

His crimson gaze stares at her, and she feels extremely uncomfortable and small again. Trixis averts her gaze, but not before she sees that Master Filinid is not alone. He has brought the house's newly appointed battle master.

It would seem that the guard that betrayed the late Matron had been promoted. She could recognize him easily, he was a bit infamous amongst the house slaves at the moment for the upheaval that had occurred with his help.

"Slave," Her master says coldly, and she holds her head down. "Come here."

she slowly moves to stand, and walks toward him. She says nothing when she stops in front of him. Her eyes glance to the side, noting that the Battle master takes a step closer toward her. Akin to a moth drawn to a flame. It was a disheartening sign.

 _That something inside of her was beckoning for the thing in the distance._

She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

If something was calling to whatever power was far from her sight, she understood that it would be especially attractive to those that were much closer. She dared no look up at her Master or his 'guest'.

Her Master grabs at her collar, tugging on it. His fingers hooked under the metal, and it took all she had not to flinch at his touch. She swallowed, tamping down her nervousness. The Wizard Drow snapped something against her collar. Her blue eyes widened, as she realized the soft 'clink' against her collar was her master attaching a length of chain.

He had put her on a leash. Like a pet.

Part of her quivered in revulsion. To be a Pet was as bad if not worse than being a bedmate. She tried not to think about how he would never willingly part with her now. But, she, did not think she could survive being anywhere near him.

Especially when the Weapons Master was looking at her with the same red gaze that Master Filinid watched her with. And she stiffened, when her Master placed a hand around the base of her neck, while the other held her leash securely.

He titled her chin upward, with the hand that held the chain, and looked at her quietly.

"Behave, of you will be punished." Her Master warned her subtly.

Trixis shivered.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: Evil Aligned Drow, and mentions of non con, ect._**

 **Thanks to all those that read and review! Thanks To Val, Silt, Puffgirl, Moonlitmeeting, and Guest(s).**

OoOoOo

Mages rush about, the halls seem to team with Drow. Males are busy working to strengthen the wards and runes about each room. Each nook and cranny is exploding with magic brought forth by their talents, and it causes her head to ache slightly. She can sense all of them, though she does not comprehend what they mean. Defense seems the most likely. While the Matron is cruel and it does border on the insane, she is also exceedingly smart.

Therefore, equally dangerous.

She hears her Master bark out orders as he passes, the lower ranking females manage to give him a wide berth and show the proper amount of respect toward him. It has been unspoken, but the entirety of the house, believe that he will be the newest Patron. It is obvious by how they treat him. It also makes Trixis's hands sweat with cold displeasure and fear. It is a bold move, not to chose a warrior or the Weapons master as the next companion. Yet, Master has also managed to carve a name for himself amongst the sea of magically inclined Drow. He is powerful.

Trixis understands that the move would be entirely political and she is nearly glad for it. Perhaps he would leave her be now. He had the Matron, with her elven beauty and the command of dozens or more. Just of the ranking nobility and lesser females. The males were numerous, for every house needed soldiers and the human shuddered at the memory of them.

Something in her twitches, a flightily feeling that warns her to follow along.

Master has her chained to him. It is embarrassing and she wants to claw at her collar. However, she learned long ago that such a defiance would gather her nothing except pain. She considers herself fortunate, that she hasn't set the collar off yet, for he would know the instant it happened. She keeps her eyes downcast, daring to steal glances beneath her lashes as the female hunters order some of the male soldiers to different positions.

It feels off. The house seems to buzz with an energy. It was almost as if they were gearing for an attack. Briefly, she pondered over what house might have gained the ire of the Matron. Even though she had been raised amongst them, she felt a wave of pity for the Drow. It would not be quick, nor clean. That was not the way of the dark elves, unless if benefited them somehow.

The weight and sway of the chain remind her that they are going somewhere. The destination is unknown to Trixis, and her skin feels like it is crawling from all the magic and dark prayers that float through the walls, calling for Lolth. The screams of terror that echo from the distance make her keenly aware that the sacrifices were not over just yet. It was a twisted way of heralding in the new Matron.

She recoils at the mere thought of it. This time, her fortune does not last, the collar jolts her, and she hisses in a breath, but keeps her eyes downcast.

Her Master pauses slightly in his steps, before continuing toward the last door of the Hall. Trixis had never ventured through it. It was forbidden to the slaves. Even those that were for cleaning and menial labor. She shivered, feeling the crushing sensation of something that bordered on _demonic_. She could not explain how she knew, but her thoughts clamored at her to not go in the room.

 _'Please turn,_ ' she tried to plead with her Master in her mind, _'just turn'._

Mercifully, he does, and as they pass by the door, her gaze focuses on it for a moment. She becomes so lost in wondering what lay behind the heavy door, that her Master actually had to tug on her collar. Trixis stumbled forward. She wanted no part of what contained therein, yet she could not look away. The gaze of the Weapon's Master meets hers. Human color strikes against crimson, and she shuffles closer toward her Master.

She has no want of either of them, however, instinct tells her that her Master will not attempt to kill her. Today.

Yes, he had beaten her, and violated her...

The memory of which makes her want to scrub her skin clean again. However, she pushes past that. The Weapon's master, battle master, Drow that she does not know is infinitely more upsetting than the one she does. For reasons she cannot name nor describe. Her Master's hand appears around the back of her neck. His fingers hook under her collar. She had not realized he had stopped at all. She had been trudging forward as a slave should.

However, his touch elicits a want to move away that she cannot accommodate. If she were to pull away, it would likely anger him. He had been rather adamant that she was to look at him, and to allow his touch. In the times that he had taken her upon his bed. It confuses her, and makes her wonder what game he is attempting to play with her. One that only amuses him, no doubt.

She keeps her head down, for it allows her to take note in the changes. Some of the rooms have been heavily plundered, and are now only being straightened. Someone or several Drow had put up a fight. It did not seem fair, nor just, that their own house had turned on them, for simply being loyal to the wrong party. She swallowed, as her Master's finger drew across a small patch of her skin.

She shuddered from the feeling. It was a natural reaction, but one that she did not welcome. He responded by stroking that same patch a little harder.

He had told her to behave, and that was worrisome. Who was she supposed to behave for? Or in front of?

Master Filinid releases her, but not her chain, and starts walking forward once more. She trails behind him like a pet, leash and all. It jangles slightly as the gap between them widens.

It takes all she has not to yelp or call out, when a hand reaches for her face. Not that of her Master, but of the Weapon's master. His dark finger traced across the skin of her cheek. Her eyes shifted to the side.

Her stomach clenches tightly. There is no pain from the touch, and he has not been shocked by her collar. Which she does not fully understand. But as quickly as the touch came, it is gone. Yet his crimson gaze remains on her.

She shivers once more. A dread filling her.

OoOoOo

She kneels, her head bowed, as the Weapons Master, Master Filinid, and the Matron speak behind a closed door. She cannot hear a single word that is uttered. Trixis merely assumes they are talking. She is a simple slave, of no importance in their eyes. However, her Master had refused to let her stay by herself today, he has instead chosen to keep her chain anchored to the wall by some Arcane spell. It is fused to the stone, and there is no conceivable way for her to free herself.

Why this day is different, she cannot fathom. There had to be a reason. As much as she is loathe to admit the fact-

She winces again at the sudden pain.

-The Drow rarely did anything at all without reason. Though those reasons might not make perfect sense to others outside of their society. While she considered them wicked, they were not without rationale.

That something inside of her goes quiet in the presence of the Matron, as the Drowess had passed her by. It has not left her, Trixis does not fear the Matron at this moment. She seems far too busy enjoying the fruits of her Matricide. That is of no concern to the human, at least, not directly. There is also the feeling, that moves within her and into her thoughts, that she would do well to avoid the presence of the Matron, or the female's attention for overlong.

Her God may be dead, yet Trixis holds her faith in him even more firmly than before. She does not understand why she has had to suffer this, but she has the inkling that it was pivotal. It had to come to pass, that she be in the Under dark. Perhaps not necessarily with the Drow, but she was needed here.

The shadows blend and move. Even though she does not stare down the hall, she can feel the eyes that watch her. Trixis has gotten very good at sensing the Drow gazes that lingered on her, when she was paying attention. She does not move, nor make a sound. She knows that she is chained like a dog to the hall, but she cannot leave. To try would be futile, and might only serve to rile the Drow into looking for some quick torment.

A black blur, passes by her. And she releases a breath as it goes directly into the room behind her.

OoOoOo

The Matron enjoyed her males. They were such good weapons and fodder for the Goddess. Though otherwise useless, they had their moments that served her well. The Wizard, Filinid Yauntykur, had learned much from his time amongst the council, and it was benefiting the house Mages. The Battle Master Goin Hun'ett, had managed to overthrow the last Battle Master, proving his prowess to the house. The soldiers that remained would follow him into the depths of the Spider web and back. As long as he proved to be the strongest, that was. At the very least, they would not dare challenge him.

That left her head Assassin Zszal Ssael. He had managed to gain her far more than a few poisoned cousins and out lying ill-favored kin that were now cooling in their graves or whatever had become of them. Ssael's on was also amongst the Assassin ranks, having bred true his propensity for cloak and dagger work. It was ideal to have a strong bloodline for the tasks that she required accomplished.

Her fingers crooked under the Wizard's chin, tilting his face upward toward her. From his positon, kneeling before her, she enjoyed a moment of utter power. The Battle Master, also showed her great deference, and the Assassin could not bring his eyes upon her.

This pleased her greatly. As it always did when males knew their place. It was time, now, to dole out the rewards to keep the simple minds of the males engaged with serving her with their lives.

For they might lose them easily.

The snake head whip on her side, hissed with it's mistress's pleasure. The elated feeling of being in her element swept over the female. This is where she belonged, but she was not quite high enough for her tastes. More should grovel and scrape before her. Including those that had dared to challenge her during her time as a Priestess. She would be favored by Lolth for bedding a male that had been blessed with the good fortune of the Spider Goddess, despite his lowly station. The magic and treasures would drip from her fingers, and she anticipated one day being among the most feared in the city.

If not the most feared.

"You should be rewarded," she purred to the Wizard. "For all your work."

Her crimson gaze met that of the Assassin and Battle master.

"You all should be rewarded."

The snake whip coiled more tightly about her side.

"Tell your Matron, what you desire."

Soon, oh so soon, she would paint the city in blood if it put her name closer to her Goddess.

OoOoOo

What seems like an eternity passes, before the spell of boredom is broken. The human blinks at the lumbering sound, of something nearly crashing into the walls. She looks up, and sees the hulking form of the Darfellan. His shiny black and white skin is cast in a pretty light by the fire glow. The purple flames make him appear even more out of place in the Under dark.

Just like her.

She smiles briefly at the sight of him. His luminescent eyes watch her carefully, and she can tell that he is trying to be quiet. It is not really all that possible, given his girth. Behind him, comes a figure that she would know anywhere. 'Twig'. She can tell that they have been worried. She would have been as well, if one of them had been parted from the communal room for so long.

"Are you well?" The Darfellan asks lowly, his gaze darting about. He likely has noticed that she is alone.

Trixis nods briefly.

"As well as can be expected, yes."

The Thri-kreen scuttles toward her. Already reaching for the bit of magical length that binds her.

"No Twig," she says softly, trying to push away his strange appendages from her chain. "It might hurt you."

She would not put such a thing beyond Master Filinid.

She knows that they do not understand each other. Words have never been a strong suit between them. For the most part, they have not been needed. Gestures had always been enough, as they were now. The Mantis humanoid ceases the struggle with the chain and lets loose a series of sharp clicks. He is agitated, Trixis can tell. She does not blame him. He has seen, just as she has, what becomes of the slaves that are noticed by the Drow.

"Its alright," she assures him, resting a hand upon his carapace. The touch was gentle, and 'Twig' permitted it. She noticed the mottling on his tan colored plates with dismay. She felt a pang of sympathy at the understanding that the huntresses must have come for him once more. The uneven fracture on one of his legs, spoke volumes as her gaze moved over him.

"We were worried," The Darfellan says with a hint of relief. She can tell where his worry had led him.

They thought that Master had killed her.

No, she knows that she will not die by her Master's hand.

"Thank you," she says sincerely, "for thinking of me."

Her once over of the Thri-kreen shows several areas where he was beaten. Luckily, it was with less intensity than the last time. They must have been busy with the upheaval in the house. Trixis can also see that he favors the injured leg. She cannot blame him. It had not healed properly.

"Oh Twig," Trixis said sadly. Her human gaze moved to meet his insectoid large eyes. They were dark and fathomless. She felt a tug at her heartstrings. He must have been in so much pain! It made the feeling of impotent rage toward her Master wash over her. If he had permitted her to leave his rooms, she might have been able to help him earlier.

She glanced left, and then right. Their area of the hall seemed silent. She moved forward, shuffling her knees as she approached the crack in his leg. Her fingers traced the older injury, she felt a familiar pull, as the plates of his carapace began to mend more cleanly. 'Twig' chuffed at her, a small passing of a whistle mixed in his sounds. It sounded like a Thri-kreen 'thank you' to her ears.

The Darfellan squatted next to her. Nearly towering over the other two unintentionally.

"We cannot stay long," He said in a hushed whisper.

She nodded. It was likely risking a heavy beating and possibly crippling, if they were caught slacking. Especially now. The Drow seemed to find comfort in hurting others. She swallowed, trying to fight the sting of tears. She was moved by how they had come to find her. Even if slaves were not supposed to speak with each other often. If at all, were it not at the behest of their Owners.

"Go," she urged, now looking around as well. The Human instinct to look for danger pulled at her. Though it seemed pointless in a house like this. Surrounded by dangers with shockingly white hair, and crimson eyes.

The Darfellan gave her a long, hard stare.

"I will help you," The male said lowly, "in anyway which I can."

She smiled at him, endeared to find a brightness amongst the darkness of their lives.

"I know."

With that, the Darfellan grabbed 'Twig' and began to drag him away. The Mantis-like creature hissed in defiance, but could not fight off the superior strength of the Darfellan.

Trixis touched a hand to her temple, watching them leave, as a small ache spread through her chest. It was soothed away, by the feeling that she was not alone. Far from alone. Even if only two beings in all the Under dark did not wish her harm. There was also the call of something in the distance. Something in her reverberated the sensation.

She sat back on her haunches, her knees still touching the ground. She wanted to say a prayer of thanks to Tyr, for such an unexpected blessing, but she could not. It was not safe. Just helping 'Twig' had been a large risk in and of itself-

Her eyes widened as she felt the slight movement of the air next to her. With concern and a hint of fear welling in her stomach, Trixis slowly turned her head. Not daring to lift her gaze above the waist of the black-leather clad figure.

Male, by the look of him.

It was a far cry better than a female. She could still remember the eyes of the last one. It was the greaves that caught her attention. A tear in them, that her mind hinted she recognized. A gash in the shin of the male.

 _'You are hurt',_ her words lingered in her thoughts.

He didn't make a sound, as she slowly titled her head back to look up at him.

Gray eyes, the color of stone and not blood, stared back at her. Trixis blinked, and looked away. It was the same Drow from earlier.

"You can heal," he said neutrally, yet his posture changed as if excited by the discovery. As if it were something that she hadn't been hiding from their kind since the day she was dragged down into the darkness at the age of six. She does not remember any of her life before that day. She likely never will, and it is something which stopped bothering her years ago. It was her life, and that was all there was to it.

His leg was shoved in front of her quickly. She could make out that it still bled sluggishly.

"Fix this," he said commandingly, for she was still without power to refuse. "Or I will kill those slaves."

She clenched her teeth at his threat. Nay, his promise. The Assassin had no need to merely threaten. He could carry out his words with ease.

Without thinking, she reached forward, touching the injury. Her fingers traced the edges of the wound gently. The Drow male held perfectly still, but she could feel his gaze boring into her. The gash soon began to close, it knitted together without much fuss. However, she could sense that it had bothered the Male, and no one had spared him a healing potion or lent aid.

He either did not have high connections, or he was not considered worth the investment. She was not certain which was the case.

When it was finished, she pulled away quickly, as if touching him burned her. Trixis folded her hands in her lap. Her head bowed, as she sought to avoid meeting his eyes again. Something about them still startled her.

For several tense heartbeats, he inspected his leg.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, when his knees hit the ground next to her. The human tried to pull away, but his hands grabbed her arms in a fierce hold. She winced in pain, it would bruise later. She could only watch, for her eyes moved to the cloth covering his face as he released one side of her. Trixis stared at him. Blue clashing with eerie gray.

"And this," he breathed, ripping at the cloth that covered part of his face.

Her gaze widened, and she could not help but gape at the damage to the left half of his face. Her hand reached up of its own volition, as she traced the craters of missing flesh. It appeared as if fangs of multiple sources had taken parts of his face away. The image flashed in her minds eye, of a snake-head whip. He was partially blinded in the left eye, she could see by the murky swirl of silver over the pupil. It had been punctured at one point.

To heal this poorly though, whatever priestess did this to him, must have hated him. She had the sinking feeling that he was an acquired asset from another house. Likely to save his own life. He might, in fact, belong to whatever house the Matron was going after. Disbelief warred with horror on her face. He could have been punished a thousand times over and not left marks like these.

A sense of compassion swelled within her. The human caressed the damage, feather-light touches upon scars she knew did not hurt him on a physical level. She stared at him. His expression morphed into one of faint shock.

His eye slowly unclouded, as the human's touch lingered on him.

"I can see you," he whispered with a bit of shock in his tone, but it was no less forceful and superior than before.

Trixis said nothing, as she felt the pull from deep inside of herself. This was for the good of the others, and even she was moved by the cruelty Drow inflicted upon one another. They were as vicious to the males as they were to slaves. The loss of muscle, possibly eaten by the whip, began to regenerate. She would not be able to remove all of the scarring, but it would be severely reduced. She moved her fingers from one to the next, then the next, until each one was back to what would be considered normal.

Only the fang marks remained, peppering parts of his skin, with a shiny surface.

He jerked away from her, laying his hand upon the previously disfigured side of his face. He stared at her for a moment, then shot to his feet.

"I know now," the assassin said quietly, "why Master Yauntykur keeps you."

The human said nothing, turning her head away slightly, refusing to feel shame at the sentiment.

"You are of use."

Something about such a simple sentence, had never seemed quite so sinister before.

OoOoOo

The footsteps of thousands of armored beings, devoted to the light, rings through the newest cavern they have entered. They moved slower as a group, but an army held greater power in its numbers.

They were coming, with the light of Tyr as a guide in the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: Evil Aligned Drow, and mentions of non con, ect._**

 **NinKen, I saw you :P**

 **Thanks for those that read and review!**

OoOoOo

Master has a new item, when he leaves the room. There is something about it that must be precious, or expensive, for his gaze lingers on it. He scarcely bothers to look at Trixis when he removes her chain from the wall. It is odd and disturbing to watch the metal slide from the stone as if it were coming out of water. She watches quietly, hoping that the Assassin has truly left. He had backed away from her carefully. Which was also strange to the human. There was a flicker of something in the male's gaze that she did not understand.

She does not know how Master Filinid would take to knowing what she could... do. The talent that she kept hidden from the Drow for good reason. A voice inside of her cautioned her against allowing it to become known. However, now that sense of self-preservation as quickly turning into paranoia. What more would the Assassin demand of her? What would happen to the Darfellan and 'Twig' if she did not comply?

Nay, wait. The last part she knew. They would be slaughtered. It was not hard to imagine. The Darfellan was clumsy on the stone floors, and out of the water. He had admitted as much, and she believed him. 'Twig' would fight, but as being subdued by the huntresses proved, he would not win against a Drow. Then the blame, would lie upon her shoulders for failing to protect them, in what little way she could as a slave. It made her throat tighten in apprehension.

 _'Great Tyr, preserve me amidst these foes and the taint of this city,'_ she thought in an fervent prayer.

She can hear the chain once more, the jangle jarred upon her eardrums. She did not know where they were going now, but she rose to her feet quickly, lest he yank on the chain for sport. Though, he could still choose to do it for entertainment. She would not put it past him. Master Filinid seemed to still delight in causing her pain, and though it seemed as if he was not paying her the least bit of attention, her skin crawled as if he were watching her once more.

Her, soft, human gaze flickered up toward the Drow that held her chain. Her Master. Her tormentor. The beginning and the end of her secular world within these walls. Until the moments of silence and balance where she finds her God once more. Though dead, she can offer all that she is to him. Accepted in the remnants of a replaced God, when her station makes her very nearly hated.

Crimson met with blue, and she bowed her head more deeply to avoid meeting that gaze again. She heard a huff of breath, as if he were amused. Nothing that she had ever wanted from or in life had come from an amused Drow. No matter their ranking.

One hand holds the item he tenderly caresses, the other hand clenches her leash tightly. The thought passes across her mind, in a feather light movement, that it almost seems as if he is under the impression she would bolt, given the opportunity.

Not for the first time, she silently curses that her Master is not a fool.

A wince follows her slight against him.

She hisses a breath, and though she cannot see it... Her Master smiles.

OoOoOo

He seems to favor the chain.

Trixis despises it entirely. Its heavy, and the physical reminder that she cannot leave him chafes, almost as much as her collar. The welts sting slightly when she moves. Her gaze catches the links, each perfectly crafted to the next.

It makes her a prisoner to whatever length her deems appropriate.

This night, and she hopes it will be the only time it is so, it is so short that she cannot sit up on his bed. He's forced her to lie down, and she has struggled -less so than the first time-, but is has done nothing. She brought her arms closer to her chest, a misguided attempt to salvage some of the modesty and dignity that has been forcibly stripped from her.

A dull flush creeps across her skin, at the way he stares at her prone form. She doesn't understand what he wants or what he is looking for. She stills when his fingers trace light patters down her side, and it takes a large effort not to shiver at the touch. The lack of pain is nigh on terrifying. It makes her hold her breath in anticipation of when it will turn to... what comes naturally for the Drow. The need to dominate, to conquer, and to harm.

To Destroy.

Briefly she entertains the idea that he might want to destroy her. Why? She has not idea, except that perhaps it was overdue? Did he seek another slave? A gift of the new Matron so that he might flaunt his status above the other males? Yes, that did sound possible.

However, such a move could cause another male to seek favor with the Matron even more desperately. It was a dangerous game, the Drow hierarchy and the attentions of a female was a cursed sort of blessing. A female decided everything about a 'courtship' if it could be called that. She chose when it began and when it ended. And, in how much blood.

Or what cost of life was needed to avenge the need for revenge the female Drow were infamous for even when no slight against them was made.

Much like how her Master treated her, here. At his mercy.

OoOoOo

"What is it?" He asked in a voice that is both a question and a ground out demand.

She does not answer. He did not expect her to.

The human is akin to an arcane spell that he can read the words of, but not execute properly. There is a remembrance of his time in training under an older, wiser wizard. One that possessed all the answers when he held only questions. Something about it, her, slips across his thoughts.

Maddening.

Invigorating.

Beguiling.

Every inch of her seems wholly, and pathetically _human._ Yet, he can vividly recall the night he tried to kill her, and she had lived. Badly broken and beaten, but alive. Still with a will to crawl away from him. It was, at its core, perplexing. It did not allow his mind to rest, even when the Under Dark was barely waking for the new day of self-serving ambitions. Many would die this day, as they did every day.

More would replace those, and some would become sacrifices to the great Goddess Lolth. However, this human... was...

He could sense that she was hiding something, and he had considered the fact that she had been able to feel the shifts in his wards. Perhaps she was sensitive to the arcane talents? Magic might be in her blood, but it had never been nurtured. If it still existed beyond simple recognition, than it would be a wonder. However, he had no need for a slave that could pose a threat to him.

Staring at her -sharp and persuing gaze raking over her without pause-, head turned away, with her gaze averted in a perfect image of submission, he cannot summon the urge to end that spark yet. Something stays his hand. There is _something_ about her which calls to him.

Its a want to _know_ that catches his interest and holds it tight. The appeal of her continued existence is also in the luck she brings him. Lolth has blessed him mightily for causing her pain. The status that comes with his revered position in the Matron's bed, for now. He will plot and backstab with the best of them to keep it. Filinid has plans of his own. They do, for now, involve one frail -but resilient- human. Something that also thrums through his veins. He can still taste the coppery tang of her blood. The essence of that small taste had driven him nearly feral for more.

Yes...

 _More._

It borders on obsession. He cannot explain it, nor does he want to. There is no need. Yet, in the next breath there is every need. The Magical side of him demands to know. Why this plain little female? A being so helpless that she should have been fed to the spiders!

She is disgustingly human, and his gaze narrows on her in distaste, however, he feels compelled to be near her. Beckoned by a softness about her that lures him in. Like a moth to the brightest flame in a never-ending night. There is an air about her that is bright and young.

Perhaps that is why some Drow chose to bed humans. That or how short their lifespan was. He could take a human lover dozens of times over to the end of their life span and never feel the weight of it. For Filinid it is like a madness and a sickness. It twists and wiggles into his very being. One that he wants to lose himself in, until she is broken beneath him once more. Another part of him fights it with everything within him. This sensation she brings about is damning in some way. A weakness that he will never tolerate.

However, in their dynamic she possesses no power. She is not a Drowess. This human is truly nothing. She cannot leave, for she brings him good fortune and has captured his interest. She belongs to him. That thought does not come from some narcissistic place. It is only a placid fact.

A slave could not leave their master.

Therefore, he has as long as he wants. He holds her whole lifespan in his hands. He will peel away her skin layer by layer, if he must, to expose the part of her that calls to him so. She is _bewitching_ , like this, calling to his intellect like a well crafted rune. But, he _will_ have his answers.

OoOoOo

He doesn't stop touching, and she tries to block it out.

As she drowns out the feeling of his lips upon her. The sharp nip of his teeth and the marks they leave behind.

There is a sense of urgency about him, this time. Hands that grasp, and hold her less tightly than last time. It seems moot with the chain that keeps her tethered. As if he were exploring what her body could respond to. She idly wonders what haunts his nightmares, if he has any. Hers are shrouded in white hair and crimson eyes. Master Filinid demands again to know her name. He turns her face, so that she looks into his eyes.

He goes tense above her, and she senses the taint within her. Once more she battles against the lingering effects of a Lolth Follower.

Master has more than she ever has, and still... she tells him nothing.

OoOoOo

It had not hurt.

The realization never strays far from his mind. His skin still tingles where the human touched him. So... _gently._ He has never experienced a touch like that before. Yes, there had been shock and disgust on her rounder features, he was not blind nor a fool. However, she had touched him without shuddering, or looking as if he were lesser.

Not that she could, He was above her in every aspect. She was but a slave. Worse than that, a _human._ Not as despicable as an elf, but it was not far off either.

She'd caressed his face with more kindness than any female every had.

Imlyn was at a loss. It could very well be a human disposition, and logically that would make sense. He has never seen one so close. As a young Drow he had heard stories and seen drawings of them. He knew where to strike to lay them low. How much blood to bleed before they collapsed. The amount of time it took them to succumb to numerous poisons.

He'd been healed by Priestesses before, it was not a well-liked experience. There had been pain, and Imlyn had known it since he was very young. But the human... had not sought to cause him any more.

Therefore, harming her is very far from his mind. A healer in the Under dark was worth their weight in gold. Nay, worth the weight of their house in Gold, if they were highly skilled. The human had regrown muscle lost decades ago. When he had been forced to hide his hideousness, lest he risk becoming a sacrifice. Yet, even the foul priestess that had maimed him, considered him far too disfigured to please Lolth.

So, she'd left him a garish image of his former self. He'd been a good specimen of male Drow before the house priestess felt he had grown too large for his gender.

In repayment, he had betrayed his house to the one he served now. Faithfully. Or at least as long as they paid him, and no Priestess made it worth his effort to find another female that was more interested in getting rid of them... than punishing Imlyn.

He strokes his cheek, feeling only the shiny scars that remain. The skin is smooth and taut once more. He had spent time last night, staring into a looking glass, being able to see himself fully once more. The scars were visible, yes. Puncture wounds that dotted the skin. However, they did not cause him to pull away from his own image. He was not... disgusting anymore.

The human was _valuable._

 _'Master Yauntykur was wise to keep her.'_

If the high Wizard found her of so much worth, there might be more yet that she could do. Imlyn felt a prickling, no tingling, along his spine. His mind was a whirl with possibilities of what else the human had in store. It was a vast unknown. Yet the known made him envious. He wanted what the Wizard had. Something of so much value. She could be what garnered him access to more noble and prestigious houses.

He was not without skill, not by far...

Yet, the human was rare. And, he craved rare things. That meant she was worth a fair amount of risk and pain. Especially if she could heal it.

Gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He would watch the Master Yauntykur. He would find the time to strike, and when he did. He would kill the Wizard and take the human slave.

He would claw his way to the top, to a sense of freedom that most males only dreamed of, and he would glorify about how he got there.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: Evil Aligned Drow, and mentions of non con, ect._**

 **Hahaha, thanks for all of you that reviewed! And yes, I am subtly hinting at a corruption factor. In the actual game (Table top) you can slowly change someone's alignment under the right circumstances, or have your own changed by your actions. However, Filinid is considered an 'evil' creature. Remember Drizzit is the exception, my Drow are the rule. You know, sort of. Highly self-serving creatures.**

OoOoOo

Shields of the first rows of Paladins crashed into a veritable infestation of Baneguards. The skeletons of various creatures grinned at them. Their teeth forever exposed without flesh to cover them, the creaking of bone upon bone as they shambled forward. Wails and howls of the creatures filled the area of the cavern they were in. The Paladins do not pause.

Their swords cut away, chipping at the bone, as their shields smash the creatures. The echoing roar of Tyr's army nearly drowns out the supernatural cries. Some of the baneguard have equipped themselves with the items of their victims. It causes a sense of fury to bathe over Liu Wei. They dared to rob the dead? These creatures also sought to stop the arm of a dead god?

Had they possessed blood, the stone floors would have run red. For the Paladins fought with a fervor that would have been just shy of terrifying. The golden glow of them cast light in the nooks and crannies of a place that had been devoid for years without number. The second row of the army adjusted their helms, and then charged forward. They began to systematically destroy the baneguard with heavy blows and a tenacity brought about through their service.

"Let none pass!" Liu Wei Shouted in a commanding voice.

His words were heard, and soon the whole of the first company were launched into a fierce, but quick skirmish. They overwhelmed the skeletal creatures, breaking them until the bones became near dust beneath their feet. Those in the front took a moment to breathe, as the ones behind them took their place. This would provide them with a chance for rest as they marched through the darkness. They would not stop their push further.

They could not stop. The whispers of Tyr still could be heard amongst them, calling for them.

Their brightness bounced off the various types of stone, and heralded their coming.

Let it.

These wicked creatures would run before the holy symbol of Tyr, They would tremble at the sight of his followers, those that served him even in death. They would join their God, should they fall, and therefore they were not afraid of the hereafter. They would go down with his praise on their lips and they would not go alone.

They were unafraid of who knew of their presence.

Their God had called them forward. Forward they would go.

The caverns were miles across, on these settled trails. There was also a long journey between each. What merchants had traversed, was usually peaceful for the most part. At least the dangers were considered lesser. However, the Paladins were being besieged by numerous types of creatures. Ones that acted on the behest of the darkness, lashing out at the light that had breeched their sanctum.

Tyr found the slaying of evil creatures and wrongdoers as a something worthy of praise. They would honor him in their decent into the bowels of the world.

A shout from the fourth company.

"Derro! To the West!"

The head of the Grimjaw smiled at the call. They were getting closer...

He could sense it.

"In Tyr's name!" He shouted in response.

 _Onward._

OoOoOo

Trixis turned, looking toward the door. Her fingers momentarily lost their grip on the scrap of cloth that Master had a bit of nerve to call clothing. The jolt from her collar, she scarcely felt. Her attention was focused on what held her attention in the distance. Much closer now.

 _Not long._

She shivered in something close to delight. It was coming for her. She could feel it. Soon. Soon it would be over. She just had to hold on a little longer. The desire spiked in her heart, to meet it halfway. To run from her Master and brave the dangers of the Under Dark by herself. It did not matter. It she could but reach it-

Out. She needed to get out! It burned at her, making her feel jittery and slightly afraid at how powerful the urge was. She needed out. But how?

 _Trust._ The voice whispered.

Yes, she did trust. Could trust, and would continue to trust. The feeling of something, swelled within her, growing stronger.

The crimson stare of her master turned toward her, his gaze appraising. Trixis attempted to tamp down on the urgency, but it was of no use. It was flowing in her thoughts, and she could feel it building beneath her skin. She scratched at her arm, trying in vain to distract herself from the sensation. Master was in the room with her. She had to stop it.

 _It was out there, in the distance. Tyr's great name rises in the darkness, and the bright glow akin to the midday sun in the darkness, bathes the area._

Trixis gasped softly. Her blue eyes wide in realization. Tears pooled in her eyes, and the moment moved her so. For a single, precious, second in time, in her mind's eye she saw a glow in the darkness. It felt akin to comfort and peace. It was right and good. As when she had time to pray to Tyr. It was all consuming and powerful. Everything she had been waiting for, she was certain of it.

She trembles, feeling raw and exposed.

Her Master circles, her, his greedy gaze was alight with curiosity, as the crystalline tears of joy slipped down her cheeks. Briefly, his features twist in confusion. An expression he normally never wears, and had she been paying the slightest bit of attention to him, she would have noticed that his eyes lingered in rapt attention on her face. As if he were puzzling out every possible reason she might be moved to show such a weak emotion.

That had come, by his estimation, apropos of nothing.

With nimble fingers, which had spent years casting spells until they bled, he touched the salty warmth, startling the human.

Trixis only had a moment, to understand what was occurring, as his gaze moved from his fingertip to her face.

"I had not thought, that the door displeased you so," he says dismissively. His brow arches, and she can hear the caustic bite of his tone.

The joy she had felt just a heartbeat ago crashes into a thousand fragments, as reality harshly stares her in the face. What remains in the distance is not here yet, and she still belongs to Master Filinid. The same Drow that had commanded her to dress as was befitting a slave of a higher status male. Which apparently, meant dressing in hardly anything at all. The Drow were very proud of their physiques. It did not, in Trixis' mind, mean that she wanted to parade around in a scrap of cloth that was somehow less than the shapeless sack she was accustomed to wearing.

She wasn't entirely certain how to even put it on.

Her silence grated on his nerves somewhat, she surmised, by how his attention turned toward the door again, His posture slightly stiffened, but when he looked back at her, his face was a neutral mask. Assessing.

"Either finish dressing, or go as you are. It matters not to me, but I _will not_ be late, slave."

She blinked, turning her gaze away and trying once more to adorn herself in the what her Master had provided her. He was taking her somewhere, but she was not certain as to where. All these years that she had spent in the Under dark, she had never set foot outside the house since she was gifted to him. The idea that she would leave it now, was nearly unthinkable. She barely had the chance to believe it. Some part of her balked at doing the unknown or out of the ordinary with her Master. Drow were not exactly known for giving good surprises.

Trixis feels a faint fluttering in her stomach at the trepidation that comes with being alone with Master. And, the city she has only ever really seen through the windows of the house. What it is like out there, she can only guess as much worse than the vile sanctity the house provides. Once or twice, she's heard the whispers of others, and the Darfellan runs errands as his Master commands, but he refuses to tell Trixis much.

She thinks it is his way of trying to protect her. Up until this year, she had been but a simple house slave in the eyes of the others. Now... Now, she did not enjoy what she was, and her the closest creatures she held dear might be under constant threat from the assassin. Part of her hoped that with his face now healed, he would have nothing else that required her.

It was, she knew, a very foolish hope.

OoOoOo

He would credit the Wizard with being cautious. A trait that all Drow were known to possess, should they wish to live to see adulthood, but Master Filinid seemed to have made the trait his own. He refused to let the human woman out of his sight. For the most part. When he could not be around the female, he kept her warded behind barriers that seemed needlessly strong for what she was.

Though they were stronger on the outside of his room. The Assassin recognized the ploy. It was a chokehold, a place to force would-be attackers to funnel through at what seemed to be the 'weakest' point. The door. From there, there were a host of rather ingenious and vicious runes set up that could kill a throng of Drow several times over. Lolth take him.

Imlyn. ever patient in the shadows that concealed various house scouts and others of his ilk, watched the scenes that unfolded. The Wizard Master took his slave by her chain, and he noted that she had been given new clothing, but the human was uncomfortable by it. She tugged endlessly, attempting to shield more of her skin from any potential onlookers.

Something about her, face flushed red, and eyes downward, made him recall how she had healed him. And, it registered through his thoughts again, that she had been able to restore his visage. A fact that he was highly pleased by. Imlyn had not produced any children yet, and therefore his bloodline was hanging by the thread that he clung to. Being as disfigured as he had been, no female had wanted him. No matter their state of mind. Even the cruel ones or those that enjoyed the worst and most twisted aspects of the Spider Queen had passed him by.

But, now... now he stood a chance of gaining not only his former glory. Nay. There was so much more on the line now. It revolved around the human with the House Wizard. The Under Dark would eat a creature like her alive. She would need him to protect her. He would be her new Master. A bit of satisfaction came from the thought. She did not appear as haggard or as used at the other slaves.

It was possible that Master Filinid had always favored the female. Imlyn filed that theory away for later inspection. For now, he traipsed behind the pair, the shadows concealing him as if he were woven from them. His footsteps made no sound as he rounded the corner, his ears listening for any threat.

However, he did glimpse something with both amused him and created a slightly problem for his plans. His gray eyes took note that the Wizard was perhaps a bit foolish. For he did not seem to notice that the Battle Master was watching them walk away.

It would seem he was not the only one, to notice that the human had value.

Imlyn also noticed, that a Thri-kreen warbled in agitation when the Wizard passed by.

OoOoOo

 _A sudden pulse. Something, previously hidden, gives a faint note of ... light... in the darkness._

A snarl of disgust rips from the lips of an elven beauty. Her shoulders tense and she looks upward from the vellum.

She felt the change almost instantly. The Matron turned around from her maps and carefully crafted plans. Her crimson gaze scanned the room, finding only those that were supposed to be present. That part was not of any surprise. Her guards were stationed about. Their eyes focused ever forward, looking for anything that might cause harm to the ruler of the house.

She still delighted in her new found power, and control over the males. Lesser as they were, and not as favored by Lolth for the fact that they were male. Females were superior, and that is as it always should and would be.

However, something tugged at her. On a sort of spiritual level. Something about the house was... _incorrect._

She lifted her hand, signaling to a nearby guard to go and inspect everything. Each nook and cranny of the house. Each member therein, and their rooms. Each possession if need be. She was not a fool. If her senses, provided by the Great Goddess herself, were shrieking in this much warning, then she would do best to pay heed to it.

There was a viper in her midst, and not the sort that could be found on her whip. The same whip that coiled tightly and hissed with its mistress's sudden agitation. Her plans would not be interrupted. They must be carried through. Lest the whole house be burned to ash, if she were not exceedingly careful.

OoOoOo

Faces, human and non -or somewhere in between-, see in the distance, but miles from them, the faint glow of purple light.

The scouts, if they have not seen them already, will notice them soon. Their brightness is a beacon, and they can sense the answer to the call lies somewhere behind the looming gates. The spiders, greedy and wicked multiple eyes, scurry about. The supposed 'chosen' of Lolth.

 _There._

The voice says with an urgency that causes the paladins to feel a strange sense of euphoria, in spite of the other would call an invitation to death. They would not be deterred. Not in the slightest.

Liu Wei, Oldest and most veteran member of the Order of the Grimjaw, leader of this army, raises is fist in the still air. The cavern is hot and there is no wind, but a breath of life and vigor is breathed into the Paladins, all at once, they are renewed and ready.

The siege would begin.

And, they would not leave without whatever it was they were coming for.

He moved his arm, lowering it as he pointed forward. The thundering sounds of an army at full run, with shouts of victory and battle on their lips, was like the heralding of a divine storm. He felt certain, with Tyr's blessing, and their noble cause of one thing.

The city would not withstand the onslaught.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Dungeons and Dragons, Spell Master, Lore Master, Forgotten Realms, or any affiliated licensed ideas._**

 ** _WARNING: Evil Aligned Drow, and mentions of non con, ect._**

 **Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews :) Credit due to a comic I saw on Google about D &D Clerics, for one of Trixis' lines. **

**The symbol of Tyr is an hammer with a set of scales on top. There is a red ribbon tied just below the hammer. His primary color is Blue.**

 **To answer a question, 'Why is it marked romance?' (Totally paraphrasing here). I think this is a close approximation to a traditional 'Drow' romance. There really isn't a lovey-dovey relationship (If there is, it is almost non-existent. As in, unicorns eating ice-cream and dancing the waltz are more likely to be seen in this world).**

 **Someone owns the other, or forces them to stay. There is literature to back this up. That is technically a 'Drow' courtship.**

 **Also, yes, the human being paraded around would be considered 'abnormal'. However, he considers her property, like a necklace or a bit of armor. She just is there, for his benefit. The others do think it is eccentric, to an extent. Hope that clears things up a bit? Pretty please?**

OoOoOo

Once, in his youth, Liu Wei had decided that it would be a fine idea -in his childish way- to light a fire next to an ant hill. The little insects had swarmed out from their home with a vengeance. In mass. At the time, he had been amazed by the sheer vicious assault they launched at every angle as they moved as one. A solid wave of pincers and beady eyes.

It had, by his approximation, not held a candle to the sight before him now. These many years later.

His keen gaze saw how the Drow seemed to pour from the very rocks themselves. The deep earth seemed to birth them into existence as they melted out from the shadows, red-eyes glaring with hatred so keenly felt that the Paladins snarled at the sight of them.

The golden glow clashed with a wave of shadow nearly too dark to penetrate. Theirs was a Goddess given talent. To step within the shadows, and attack at every angle. However, the Paladins answered in kind. Their shields repelled, and their aura harmed by their radiance. The Drow armor was weakened by their radiance.

A long and low rumble tore through the city.

Liu Wei felt the fire of battle in his blood. The Drow city had awakened to the attack. He tapped his sword against his shield, and flung himself at the nearest Drow.

Tyr's will prevail, come what may.

OoOoOo

Swords pierce flesh.

The vivid red blood of a half-elf, inherited from his human side, pools, as the sneering faces of attackers in the shadows stare down at him.

Rivlets of that same life force, trail down his lips as he hacks a cough. Wracked with pain, and the barest understanding that his lung has likely been pierced. Sweet air, though stale and tainted by the wickedness, is much harder to hold onto.

Spots of color dance before his very eyes.

Memories flash. The moments that defined him in life. They linger on his vows, taken when he was much younger. The first days of his service to a higher power. To his God.

A gentle smile forms, filled with acceptance and a faint sensation of happiness emits from dulling eyes.

"Tyr, my God," he says quietly, as another blade wedges into his already dying frame.

"Forgive me."

... Then the pain is gone.

OoOoOo

 _The call is heard, though the distance and noise made it physically impossible, a being beyond mere mortal comprehension cradles the fallen Paladin's soul._

 _'Fear not,' The God replies with a hardened gentleness, 'You have served me well, brave Kipplus. Know peace in realm. '_

 _Faintly, there is the sound of joyous laughter and relief. His God had come to take him home._

OoOoOo

 _It bubbles to the surface, her skin can no longer contain all that she holds._

There is only a moment to blink, as she sees the Drow flock against the brightness in the distance. Master had taken her from the house for the first time.

Trixis is swallowed in a sense of deep comfort and righteousness.

The voice tells her it is time now.

For the first time, that she can truly recall, she smiles with a happiness so immense, that it cannot be contained.

OoOoOo

The Wizard Filinid, drops her chain as if it scalds him. He turns, registering the pain in his hand, as the metal -magical and highly expensive!- disintegrated before his very eyes. The collar, which he had placed around his slave's neck when she was gifted to him as a pathetic mess of skin and bone, was ripped away. By the slave's own hand, as if it were a cobweb in a great summer storm

Effortless.

'What is going on?' He wonders as he attempts to divide his attention between the human, the sudden influx of holy energy, and the Paladins which were creating a mess of the City. A city he had known since birth.

Wisely, he makes no attempt to touch the human.

The ground cracks asunder in an area all around her. As if the Under Dark cannot hold the weight of her. The small chasms spread, like small ribbons unfurling ever onward. Almost as if they would ensnare the Drow and drag them away.

Her blue gaze turned a color that was nearly indescribable in this plain of existence. Filinid, for all of his learning and Arcane knowledge was struck silent by the sight before him. The faintest sliver of fear worked in, past his tumultuous thoughts about what was taking place before his very eyes. Crimson stared at the swirling gold light that began to shoot upward from the human female.

Like a beacon.

A beacon...

The Wizard stilled, his intellect could comprehend that, somehow, his human was calling the others. For the Paladins, in time with the light, redoubled their efforts. They formed tight rings to fend the Drow off at all sides as they moved forward toward the shaft of light. He had not been aware that they possessed such a talent or ability. However, as quickly as he thought it, he cast the errant hypothesis aside.

He turned quickly, barely escaping the sudden attack from behind. His crimson gaze took in the newest threat. A old human, black hair slicked by sweat, with eyes the color of earth. Strong and unmoving.

Spells tumble from his fingers and lips, as without hesitation, they each go attempt to kill the other.

OoOoOo

Under her very nose!

The aura of righteousness permeated every inch of the City. It caused several lesser Drow to twitch uncomfortably at the backlash of pain that accompanied the glow. If the Paladins were akin to the shine from the moon, in the above world, then the human slave was a thousand suns. Even the Priestess shied away her gaze for a moment's time, calling upon the powers granted by her own Demonic Goddess.

A God-touched had been hiding! In the Under Dark. In a _Drow_ city. It was inconceivable!

To what end would such a goodly creature, nay, deity, come to find harbor in a measly and weak human?

Thoughts ebbed and flowed, examining and recalling years spent in the higher pursuit of religious study. Everything was beneath Lolth, and those like this deity were a slight in the dark Goddess' honor. And yet...

And yet...

There is a vague flicker of recognition. Something that teases on the edges of her memories. The Priestess turned Matron, knows that Symbol. It belonged to Tyr, the Maimed God. One that had died when he had fought demons in the planes beyond this world.

Nay.

So much power, and _holy_ aura could not come from the mere ghostly whispers and echoes of power past...

Which likely meant that-

Her mind churned, remembering the devious brilliance of Lolth. Her Goddess had recreated herself several times over, to survive the Spell plague. Each form had to be more perfected than the last. Once upon a time, so the legends and histories said, Tyr had not always been maimed. He had once possessed sight, and both his hands. That was when he had held the most power.

Just as when Lolth had assumed her new form to stave off dying as the lesser and greater Gods had-

The Matron's gaze widened in sudden realization. This God had survived the Plague! The Goodly God Tyr was not dead! It shook the very foundation of what was held true to this day. Many of his followers had fled. The Priestess remembered the whispered words of huntresses that came from raids on the above ground. Anything that benefited Lolth, and therefore gained the Drow more power.

Could it truly be? Was it possible that a God was hiding within a lowly slave? He must have been weak indeed! Or still weakened. The worst nature of her kind reared its head. The want, nay- driving need-, for more. Ever more. She would destroy the God-touched, and therefore the God itself. Tyr had not established himself outside of the human. It would be a the highest sacrifice unto Lolth. The Goddess might even grant her unimaginable favor. A city of her own to rule. Or cast into the body of Drider, of the most revered status.

She would take the agony, for the blessings of her Goddess.

Greed, was perhaps, the very heart of a Drow. She was, considered by all, a prime example of her kind.

OoOoOo

The paladins sense the shift at once. The column of glowing radiance could only come from once source. The pull in their chests, as thousands of soldiers moved as one toward their goal.

Save the woman.

 _Trixis._

Her name floated through their thoughts in unison. The Voice of Tyr thundered through them as if he were speaking aloud. Relief swept over them, as their vigor doubled. This was their most holy quest. Their pivotal moment! Tyr would live or die by their determination.

Wizened dark eyes, saw the face of a young woman, as his feet moved forward. His years fell away as he rushed toward her, shield and sword at the ready. Within that woman, next to her, some Drow _bastard_...

Fury washes over him, one that does not feel entirely as if it is his own. He will keep this Drow from her. At all costs.

OoOoOo

Paladins. They are fighting to reach her. Trixis cannot say how she knows them, but their names resonate through her thoughts like the sound of a bell.

Blue eyes turned toward the others, a sea of hated-filled but awe-struck gazes stared back at her. The Drow dare not... wait, they cannot approach her. The ground beneath her feet shimmers in a color that rivals the purest gold.

 _Hallowed Ground._

"I bear a message," she said in a voice so filled with strength that the Drow who heard her shivered, "from my God."

She stood tall, for the first time, as she tilted her head upward. Looking down on those that had held her captive since the tender age of six.

" _Begone_.'"


End file.
